


Royal Wounded Warrior

by FireflySummerwynd



Category: Guns N' Roses, Mr. Big (US Band), Mötley Crüe, Poison (US Band)
Genre: Glam Metal, M/M, Marines, Pagan, USMC, War, hair metal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:01:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 22
Words: 67,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21947749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireflySummerwynd/pseuds/FireflySummerwynd
Summary: No one expects a long-lived military career to End by exploding in their face–literally. No one expects to wake up and find out they're nearly as much man as machine. And definitely no one expects to find out some Years later, after a recovery that can only be called miraculous and carving out a New Path in Life, that they're actually Royalty.
Relationships: Bobby Dall/Duff McKagan, Nikki Sixx/Bobby Dall
Comments: 29
Kudos: 4





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanna say that it was @SailorLestrade and their story "Royals" that Inspired this. It's based on the only role play between a former best friend and I that ever got a proper End, rather than just coming to an abrupt halt–and the End to that role play's a total tear-jerker.
> 
> Now that I've finished my most recent story, "Baby of the Band", I felt the need to get started on this. It's been driving me up the wall, 'cuz I'd be trying to write something new for that aforementioned story and be getting visuals for this one in my head the whole Time. And by the way, the archive warning for graphic depictions of Violence is only for the prologue–which I, personally think doesn't really apply since I purposely tried not to get TOO graphic.  
> ~Angel

_August, 1970_

_San Diego, California_

Sitting in a sterile hospital room with about as much warmth as an Iceberg when it came to its _décor,_ an elderly couple kept a close vigil on their grandson. Over a Century ago, they’d Feared the worst when he’d finally Returned after disappearing for a week to say that he’d gone to the nearest recruit post and enlisted in the military. But it wasn’t just the military he’d enlisted in–no, like his grandfather before him, he’d enlisted in the United States Marine Corps.

It’d been June of 1870 back then, and even though the World wasn’t quite as dangerous in terms of how much weaponry and technology’d advanced, Tom and Emma _Nona_ Reese’d still been terrified for their grandson. He was only nineteen Years old, his twentieth birthday not till December of that Year, and he’d been what they called _wet behind the ears_. There wasn’t an ounce of Worldly experience to speak of under that boy’s belt, and it almost seemed like he thought his grandfather was lying when he used the old adage _War Changes a man_.

After making it through the first World War without so much as a scratch, they’d stopped Fearing for him quite as much. Frankie was a far more incredible man and better soldier than they’d have ever given him credit for in his Youth, considering the shit he’d gotten into back then. Making it through the second World War as a fighter pilot without getting himself killed had really impressed them.

Then came the Korean War that started in the Summer of 1950, roughly six months before he’d be celebrating his first Century. He was pretty lucky, even for a Neko, to’ve survived as long as he had through all the diseases and hard labor of the nineteenth Century, then both World Wars. It wasn’t the first Time he’d been overseas, so while they worried about him every minute of every Day when they didn’t hear from him, they didn’t worry quite as much as they had in the Past. Seeing him come home at the War’s End in the Summer of 1953 was all beyond happy for all of them. By that point, he’d made the rank of Lieutenant Colonel, which meant he was pretty well-paid as the second of three field officer ranks.

Even finding out that he was diagnosed with something called hypoglycemia while he was in Korea couldn’t dim Tom’s and Nona’s Happiness at getting their boy back alive. Not even him getting his draft notice just after his birthday in December of 1964 could dim their Happiness by much. They were still worried about him, even as he became one of the first Marines to wade ashore at Red Beach 2 on March eighth, 1965. What kept them from worrying about Frankie overmuch even this Time around was knowing just what a damn good soldier he really was, and that he’d gotten outta some pretty sticky situations before.

“Not even finding out he was beaten to within an inch of his Life and nearly burned alive, or woulda been shot if he’d been in Lt. Col. Stanton’s position, in ’66 and ’68 was this bad,” Tom sighed, straightening from where he’d been hunched over his grandson’s hospital bed as he held his hand.

“At least with those two, he was still in one piece and awake,” his wife agreed, mimicking his actions across the bed. “This Time, though…”

Even the elderly, hardened Marine of a Neko wasn’t immune to tears welling up in his eyes as he nodded his agreement.

“I know that Stonie said it could be a while before it happened, if it ever did, but I just Wish he’d wake up,” Nona sniffled. “I don’t even care if he knows who we are at first–I just want him to wake up so we can see those gorgeous Sky eyes of his again.”

She couldn’t help breaking down as they looked back to their grandson’s face again, the sight almost as pitiful as their first one of him two months ago. Frankie’d been trying to get to one of his fallen men like the good soldier and field medic he was, that fallen man having gotten shot in the thigh. No one was expecting him to get launched four stories into the Air by a landmine going off six feet to his left when he was just six feet shy of his target.

Certainly no one was expecting him to land flat on his back and slam his head into the ground so hard that–even with his combat helmet–his skull’d caved like a cardboard box with an anvil dropped on it. They certainly weren’t expecting to have the majority of his left limbs rain down on them in a Storm of blood and chunks of unsalvageable meat and bone. In fact, once everyone realized what’d happened, they weren’t even expecting him to survive long enough to get him back to their base. The men forced to watch the horror play out right before their eyes thought he was gonna die right there on the field, if not from his stumps pouring blood, then from the way his brains were leaking outta his Destroyed skull.

That was two months ago, and somehow or another, Frankie’d proven what a fighter he really was by making it back to his base alive. He was unconscious and in shock from the blood loss alone, but he still had a pulse and was miraculously still breathing on his own. It was the attending in charge of the Naval ER he’d wound up in who’d made the call to sedate him, and it was a good one.

In the two months since the original accident, Frankie’d been brought back to the US, specifically to the closest Naval hospital to his home–which was nearly three hours South in San Diego. The doctor assigned to oversee his care–Dr. Jack _Stonewall_ Mattis–had decided on keeping him sedated to better allow his brain to Heal. However, that also served the purpose of keeping him still and unaware when his limbs were replaced with that could only be called Futuristic prosthetics. They were designed to be hardwired into his nervous system so they’d function like the real things–if he ever regained consciousness, that is. While he was still kept under sedation for all his massive, Life-Changing injuries, they were absolutely useless, if they even functioned at all.

None of them–not even Stonie–knew exactly what his prognosis’d be since the last Time he’d been awake was right after he’d been blown into the Heavens. For all any of them knew, he might never wake up, even after the sedation was killed–and if he did, he was most likely to be a vegetable with tapioca in his skull. It’d be an absolute miracle for him to wake up and have as much function as a multiple sclerosis patient shortly before their ultimate demise. Frankie waking up and having more or less the same amount of cognitive and physical function as before the accident’d be an even bigger miracle.

It was due to those predictions that Tom and Nona were startled when said grandson suddenly grunted, the first Sound he’d made in months, and his hands reflexively squeezed theirs.

“Tom, he’s waking up!” the elderly woman said, excitement lacing her voice as she Returned the squeeze.

“C’mon, Frankie–ya can do it, son,” Tom told him, Returning the squeeze that’d been given to his own hand.

_“Vai via e lasciami solo,”_ he grumbled, much to their surprise. _“Stavo dormendo bene.”_

Neither of the elderly Nekos were surprised that his words were slurred like he was drunk any more than they were surprised by them being in Italian. After all, the boy’d spoken nothing but Italian for the first four Years of his Life, and after a whack to the head like he’d suffered–well, it was fairly normal to forget all languages one knew except their mother tongue. Even if he’d to relearn English–as well as the numerous other languages he was fluent in–the hard way, they were just glad that he was finally waking up.

The road ahead of them was gonna be an extremely long and agonizing one, but the fact that he was already talking after all he’d been through gave Tom and Nona Hope.


	2. One

_November, 1987_

_Salisbury, North Carolina_

The last seventeen Years and not quite five months’d been some of the hardest that Mötley Crüe bassist Nikki Sixx–formerly MajGen. Frank Feranna, Jr.–had ever had to endure. Granted, the first two of those seventeen Years were the absolute worst for him, but he knew just how lucky he was. After all, he coulda been brought home in a Pine box with a flag for his grandparents to hang on their wall after his funeral draped across it, at the worst.

Life as a closet veteran who deserved far more Respect than anyone gave him these Days wasn’t easy, by any means. He lived in so much agony–not to mention with a sleep disorder that rendered him unable to even hold a driver’s license–that most Days, he just wanted to off himself. To those who knew the full story of what he’d been through, it wasn’t any big surprise that he was an alcoholic and a drug addict now. In fact, those who knew what he’d been through–and was still going through, if he were honest–woulda been surprised, if he _hadn’t_ turned into an alcoholic and drug addict by the Time it was all said and done.

With a head injury so bad, he’d literally left part of his brains in Vietnam and now suffered from crippling narcolepsy, it was a Wonder he was even half-sane. Add in the chronic agony of pretty much blowing out his entire spine from the base of his skull to the tip of his tail, and it wasn’t any surprise that it took alcohol and smack to numb the pain.

Still, he was incredibly lucky to be where he was in Life, even after all that Insanity’d ensued upon his waking from a two-month coma. He’d spent nearly two Years in a wheelchair–once he could get up outta bed, that is–due to being paralyzed from the waist down as a result of his spinal injury. Waking up to be able to feel and move so much as his pinky toe’d been a miracle since he’d been told he’d never walk again. The fact that he even had half as much cognitive function as he did _before_ nearly being blown apart was a miracle in and of itself, though.

Being able to live more or less like he’d never gone through any of that, nor suffered from asthma and hypoglycemia on top of it–absolutely priceless in his book.

It was for those very reasons that, while he seemed to take Life for granted every Day that he woke up, Nikki really appreciated that fact more than anyone could Begin to imagine. Those were also the reasons why he didn’t like listening to his band mates–Vince, Mick, and Tommy–bitch about so much as a hang nail, or a cold keeping them awake. Sure, he took a bit more pity on poor Mick–who’d his own spinal issues–’cuz he could sympathize with him, but he still didn’t wanna hear his bitching. If he could force himself outta bed and act like there was nothing wrong with him–even when he felt like his spine was about to blow out again–the guitarist could, too.

“Jay…Jayson,” the bassist gasped as he stumbled through the bus one Night in early-to-mid November.

He hadn’t told anyone that he wasn’t feeling good, ’cuz he’d been hoping that things wouldn’t escalate to the point that they had. Being a childhood asthmatic that’d never outgrown it, though, he shoulda known better the second he started feeling like he was catching the cold that Tommy’d recently gotten. It didn’t take nearly as long for the slightest cold to turn into pneumonia for him, and that could kill him in a matter of hours, if he didn’t get treatment.

Unable to find his bus’ driver before he simply ran outta Air and Energy, Nikki collapsed on the floor at the top of the stairs leading off the tour bus. His chest felt like there was an Elephant parked on it, as well as in a vice, from at least the Beginnings of pneumonia mixed with an asthma attack. The rest of the guys were knocked out too hard to wake up, so he hadn’t even bothered when he’d woken up.

“Jesus Christ–Nikki, what the hell’s wrong?”

Barely able to move his head, the bassist saw his driver standing at the foot of those steps he’d collapsed at the top of. “C-Can’t…b-breathe.”

“What the fuck?” Jayson asked, startled by the loud wheezing he heard as his friend gasped for Air.

“G-Get m-me…u-up from h-here,” he begged, fighting for every breath, let alone to get any words out.

Nodding, the driver managed to board the bus enough to heft him up onto his knees without hurting him, even more startled when he grappled for him weakly before he just went limp. Looking down at him, he realized that Nikki’d passed out and was completely dead-weight, his face an ashen hue instead of its normal lightly-tanned one. Cursing like a sailor under his breath, he dragged the unconscious man over to the lounge area’s couch, barely able to get him settled on it by himself.

Taking note that he was burning up as he struggled with him, Jayson knew he needed to get him to a hospital, and quick. It was starting to look like the rest of the tour was gonna be off, ’cuz the band wouldn’t be able to play without their bassist. At worst, they’d be burying him once they took his corpse back out to California to his grandfather, which was a more distinct possibility than he realized.

A couple minutes after getting him stretched out on the couch, the bassist’s eyes slowly peeled open and he fought to sit up a bit. Since it was obvious that he was having too much trouble breathing, he helped him and made sure he stayed propped up with whatever he could find. He was surprised when he grabbed his wrist after he told him he was heading for the nearest hospital, an almost pleading look in his Jade eyes. What surprised him even more was when he managed to pull a business card outta his wallet and demanded that hospital be the nearest VA hospital.

Three Days later, when he shoulda been preparing for a show in Columbia, South Carolina, Nikki was finally really and truly awake again. He was in the ICU of the VA hospital his band’s driver’d taken him to in Salisbury, _North_ Carolina, which was about halfway between Charlotte and Greensboro. But that was exactly what he remembered demanding before he’d passed out again due to a lack of oxygen, and he couldn’t have been more grateful.

Despite sporting almost as many tubes and wires as right after he’d woken up from nearly being blown apart, the bassist was in pretty good Spirits. Granted, he wasn’t happy that his doctor–who always followed his tours, just in case he needed him–had let his band and managers in on just about every Secret he’d ever kept from them. The fact that he was in agony from being stuck in one position due to the dual chest tubes he sported–and just lacking the Energy to move–wasn’t help him since his entire spine was screaming bloody murder. However, now knowing about everything he suffered from made said band and managers look at him in Awe as they saw him in a New Light.

“Dude, I still can’t believe everything we’ve been told,” Tommy said, gently running his fingers across his left forearm as he marveled at the currently-uncovered prosthetic.

“Ow, fuck–don’t do that right now, T-bone,” he begged, barely biting back a scream as that made him flinch and move his arm against one of those chest tubes the wrong way.

“Shit, sorry,” the drummer winced, gently helping him move it back into its previous position.

“I know ya didn’t mean to do that,” Nikki managed to chuckle. “You’re not used to seeing me like this, which’s how I prefer it.”

“I dunno how ya do it, bassist.” Those words came from Mick, who’d finally been Enlightened to the fact that he _wasn’t_ the oldest member of the band like he’d let them all believe. “I barely make it through my own Days without being loaded.”

“Resilience and grit of a Marine, ya brat,” the bassist said with a grin. “Pain ain’t a sign of weakness–it’s just weakness leaving the body.”

_“Ooh-rah,_ Major General.”

Looking up, Nikki saw his doctor in the doorway of the room he’d been put in. _“Ooh-rah,_ Stonie.”

“That’s the stubborn hard-ass of a Marine I know,” Stonie laughed as he actually entered the room. “I’m not even gonna ask how you’re feeling today, ’cuz I already know.”

“Ya damn well should,” he chuckled as the General moved to take his vitals for what felt like the millionth Time.

“How many Times has this happened?” Vince asked, brushing his blonde hair back outta his face.

“Too many to count since I quote-unquote met him back in the Summer of ’70,” he answered with a laugh. “Damn fool just doesn’t know when to quit pushing his limits.”

“Ah, bite me, asshole,” the bassist snickered. “Ya know that without me, you’d be outta a job.”

“Ain’t that the fuckin’ Truth?” Stonie cackled. “You’re the Golden Goose that keeps my hospital in San Diego running more often than not.”

Even the band’s managers, Doug Thaler and Doc McGhee, weren’t immune to their jaws dropping when he said that. Then again, they’d thought that Nikki was the type of guy who never went in for so much as an annual physical, never mind the shit he really put up with. Just about everything from MRIs on his spine to scrip refills for his inhalers and nebulizer treatments was on the table, and some of it was practically the invention of science-fiction.

The doctor wasn’t surprised that–although they still seemed low compared to an average person’s–his patient’s vitals were a bit higher than normal. No doubt that was due to the fight his body was putting up against the cold he’d caught and allowed to morph into pneumonia, which was always the case when he got sick like this.

Just as he was about to leave the room, there was a tentative knock on the door, which made them all turn to see who it was. None of the able-bodied band members were expecting to see black, wavy hair that reached the person’s chest, never mind realize who it was. Then again, they’d thought everyone in their band hated this man, so they couldn’t imagine why he’d show up at Nikki’s hospital room–and clean across the country, at that. Maybe this was another one of their bassist’s well-Hidden Secrets that was about to come to Light right before their eyes.

“Good Gods, Sir,” Bobby breathed as he approached the bed, his wide eyes starting to tear up. “Ya seriously let it happen again?”

“Not like I planned for it to, pet,” he chuckled, unable to help the coughing fit that sent him into.

The younger bassist immediately helped him sit up more so he wouldn’t choke and rubbed his back, which was now a Force of habit.

“Bobby, what the hell’re ya doing here?” Mick asked, apparently the only remaining Mötley member to find his voice again.

“What–I can’t come visit a close friend when he gets himself landed in the hospital _again?”_ he countered, managing a slight smirk.

“I didn’t say ya couldn’t–and neither did the others, not that they’ve said anything at all,” the guitarist chuckled. “We just thought Poison hated us as much as we hate them.”

“What a Cauldron of bullshit,” he laughed, helping Nikki lay back again. “Clearly, that’s one Secret he’s still hiding.”

“Tread lightly, pet,” said older bassist warned him with a smirk of his own.

Knowing exactly what his Sir’d do to him, if he didn’t, Bobby ducked his head as he let out a soft Sound that almost sounded like a meow.

“What the fuck?” Tommy finally spoke up. “And I ask that in a couple different ways.”

“Did he just _meow?”_ Vince asked, his tone sounding just as shocked.

“He didn’t meow–he _mrawed,”_ their fallen band member snickered. “There’s a difference.”

The rest of his band, not to mention his managers, looked utterly confused–but that confusion quickly turned to shock when Bobby let out that noise again and dropped to his knees next to the bed. Even without saying a word, he’d known his Sir wanted him to kneel down–he always squeezed his ear a certain way as a Silent command, in that case.

Waiting till he was given permission to speak again as his whole demeanor Changed, the younger bassist simply knelt with his head on the mattress next to Nikki’s hip. Once he was given permission–which came in the form of his Sir scratching behind his ear–he lifted his head with a third _mraw_ and turned his sights on his other band. It was only then that he held his hair down to reveal the Silvery-gray ears that usually stayed Hidden in said hair, rather than being Glamoured like the bushy, Silvery-gray tail he couldn’t hide in his pants.

A collective gasp rang out as they took note of those ears, followed by a second one when the older bassist held down his own hair. They were hard to see at first, but there was a pair of pointy ears that stood straight up on top of his head–and moved in an irritable flicking motion seconds later. Once he finally managed to flick away the errant strands that were tickling them, he sighed in relief, those ears cocking curiously at every Sound they picked up.

None of his band and neither manager knew what to say as they realized neither bassist was just wearing some prop ’cuz they liked Animals so much. What really startled them, though, was when Bobby suddenly shifted into a Silver Fox and hopped up on the bed beside his Sir. He let out that same noise that he’d been making before as he snuggled against his hip, clearly content to just lay there and let him stroke his biological hand down his side. If it weren’t for other people he didn’t trust being in the room, he’d have rolled onto his back and given him his belly, but the older bassist was aware of why he wasn’t doing just that.

“Did he _seriously_ just turn into a Fox, or am I hallucinating again?” Tommy asked.

“Yeah, Bobby really turned into a Fox,” Nikki answered with a chuckle. “If I didn’t have so many damned tubes and wires, I could turn into a Cat with just a Thought like that.”

“Wait, seriously?” The lone blonde of his band stared at him in shock.

“I’m what’s called a Neko, ya moron,” he said, smirking. “Think a wereCat that really just has a higher libido during the Full Moon, rather than turning into a slobbering, psychopathic, homicidal maniac.”

“Then what the hell’s _he?”_ Mick asked, glancing at the Fox still happily snuggled against his hip.

“Bobby’s what’s called a Zorro–think the Fox version of a Neko,” the older bassist answered. “That’s actually a big part of how and why we met last Year.”

“You’ve seriously known him, known him that long?” the drummer asked.

“Remember that Night in late-July of last Year when I disappeared for a lil over a week afterward?” Nikki countered, his brow cocking.

“Doug and I do, even if they don’t,” Doc answered. “Ya scared the fuck outta us by doing that, ya damned asshole.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah–just remember that I’m an ethical asshole while you’re letting me continue,” he snarked, rolling his eyes. “Anywhore, we supernaturals know of various supernatural-oriented places to go when we wanna go out on the town without idiotic and/or ignorant humans bothering us.”

All of them listened to him with rapt attention, Bobby licking his fingers appreciatively before letting him continue petting him.

“One of those places happens to be owned by a friend of mine,” the older bassist told them. “He’s more like a father or a brother to me–depends on the Day and circumstances.”

“And Bobby found that place?” Vince asked.

“Prolly through word-of-mouth, but yeah,” Nikki answered, nodding. “Being a literal Elf who helped raise a Pagan Neko, Rikki lets pretty much anyone through his doors, as long as they’re open-minded, accepting, and respectful.”

“Wait, Rikki?” The guitarist looked surprised. “Please tell me you’re not talking about Poison’s drummer.”

He laughed, despite that setting off a coughing fit again, before explaining that his friend bore a totally different name than the other band’s drummer–he just happened to use the same nickname, spelling and all. That friend hated being addressed by his given name–to the point that he’d actually singe a being’s hair without actually touching them, at the least–if anyone but his mother or grandmother did so. Considering that said mother and grandmother were even more powerful than he was, magickally-speaking, Rikki knew better than to even try singing to the two of them.

After that explanation, he recounted the tale of how he’d first really met Bobby, which wasn’t just by accidentally seeing his band playing a gig or something. It was as he was leaving Rikki’s supernatural bar to head home that the younger bassist came in–and was almost immediately accosted for a couple different reasons.

First and foremost, he’d _sub_ written all over him, when it came to any- and everything kinky, and not everyone in what he called _the Lifestyle_ was ethical. Secondly, almost as soon as being accosted and pinned against the wall next to the main entrance by a Dom who was notorious for not taking _no_ for an answer, Nikki watched how his eyes glazed over and knew he was in some trouble–or would be, if he didn’t intervene.

Being a Neko and Zorro, they were special in more ways than one, and not simply ’cuz they could turn into an Animal with a single Thought. In the younger bassist’s case, he was also what they called a _Fertile_ amongst both races, which was both a Blessing and a Curse. That meant he could not only father kits like men normally would, but he could also carry them the same way a woman could. Part of being a Fertile–whether Neko or Zorro–was suffering from a monthly heat akin to what their domestic and Wild counterparts did. While in such a state, the poor thing was absolutely desperate for sex, and he wouldn’t even try to fight off a group attempting to gang-rape him.

“I’m pretty much blitzed outta my mind by my own hormones,” Bobby said after he’d shifted back to his human form. “It’s basically fuck or be fucked, and I’m not gonna give a damn which in the middle of my heat.”

“Damn, seriously?” Mick asked, just as shocked as all but their bassist.

“He’s not kidding,” said older bassist told them. “I’ve seen plenty of Fertiles in heat, and it ain’t pretty till they snap outta it for the month.”

“So, what the hell’d ya do when ya realized he went into heat as soon as he walked into Rikki’s bar?” the lone blonde asked curiously.

“I dragged that other bastard off him, knocked his Lights out, and made Rikki take us back to my main house the quick way,” Nikki chuckled. “And by quick way, I mean pretty much teleporting.”

“Wait, I thought that was just something they did in the movies,” Tommy said, gaping.

“Elves as old and powerful as Rikki know something called a _transference_ spell,” he told them. “It’s basically like magickal teleportation–but it’s quite the tummy-twister for those that aren’t used to it.”

_“Yikes,”_ even their managers winced.

“Once he got us to my house, I basically tied Bobby down to the guest bed with only one hand free so that at least he could service himself,” the older bassist continued. “I was tempted as all hell to take advantage of the opportunity while I had it, ’cuz his pheromones were driving me nuts, but my own Sir woulda beaten me stupid–and not in a good way.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Doug asked. “Or do we even wanna know?”

“Rikki’s not just my friend, mentor, and surrogate sibling and father–he’s _my_ Sir in what I called the Lifestyle,” Nikki answered. “He’s the only one I’ll willingly submit to and let all but flay the flesh off my back with a suede flogger, let alone beat me within an inch of my Life.”

“Holy shit,” the group breathed, earning a chuckle from Stonie.

“Trust me, it freaked me out, too, the first Time he came in for an appointment with his back beaten to the Color of asphalt,” said doctor chuckled.

“Shit, it took actually watching a scene Beginning to End to convince ya that I liked it–and sometimes even made it worse for myself on purpose,” he snickered.

Looking back to his band and managers, the older bassist explained how Rikki woulda beaten him into his grave, Resurrected him, and repeated the process twelve more Times. Not only that, but he’d have inflicted every torture method he could come up with–up to and including skinning his hard-on with a dull, rusty Tater peeler–if he’d taken advantage of Bobby.

Since he knew just what his Sir was capable of, he’d fought what his instincts told him to do during that week like a madCat. Once the poor thing’s heat’d Ended and he started the process of Returning to normal, Nikki’d kept him essentially held hostage for another couple Days. He wouldn’t let him leave till he’d Time to catch up on his rest and had a few decent meals, ’cuz as a former Marine, he was safer with him than even his own band mates. It was only when he was sure that he’d regained some of his strength and could handle it that he set him free to Return to said band mates.

The younger bassist’d still been weak enough that he didn’t wanna move around a whole lot, and he also needed a ride back to West Hollywood. Not wanting anything to happen to him in that state, Nikki’d driven him to where he needed to go and dropped him off, watching him carefully as he made his way to the front door. He hadn’t been able to help the smile that’d crossed his face as he watched his friends engulf him in hugs any more than he could now as he recalled the scene.

“So, ya basically abducted him and held him hostage for over a week, but not with any ill Intent?” Mick asked, making sure they’d all heard him right.

_“Mmm hmm,”_ he hummed as he nodded.

“As a former Marine, Nikki’s place’s beyond secure–I’m talking Lead-lined vault on a military base, secure,” Bobby told them. “Add in all the magickal Wards from him, Rikki, Rikki’s wife, and now me–yeah, you’re not even gonna find the place, if none of us wantcha to.”

“The fact that I own multiple properties in the area–one of which Poison actually rents from me–doesn’t help with that,” Nikki snickered. “I can go to any one of those houses at any Time, and nobody but Rikki, Sirena, and Bobby’ll know where I’m at, if I don’t want my whereabouts known.”

“Well, I should hope Tom’s included in that list,” the drummer chuckled.

“Bah, he lives on a different one of my properties, so your guess is as good as his, if I’m not at my main house,” the older bassist laughed.

“Now, I think the question on _all_ our minds–is Bobby _your_ play toy like you’re this _Rikki’s_ play toy?” Doug asked.

“Yeah, he’s _my_ pet as much as _I’m_ Rikki’s pet,” Nikki answered. “Whyddaya think he’s wearing a collar?”

“Huh?” the group chorus, looking confused.

“This,” the younger bassist chuckled, pulling a locked chain up off his chest and letting it drop back down. “It’s not just a locked necklace, ya dolts.”

“Seriously?” Vince asked.

“I can’t even take it off on my own–not that I wanna,” Bobby laughed. “When I get Nikki to put it on me–’cuz it can’t be taken off without his magick–it’s ’cuz I want it on, not ’cuz he forces me to wear it.”

“It’s like having a never-Ending hug from me, so it’s kinda like a security blanket to him–just like my own is when Rikki puts it on me,” the older bassist explained. “It makes us feel safe and secure, reassured that our Sir’s gonna take care of us when we need it, if that makes any sense.”

“And when he’s on tour or otherwise unavailable, I need that kinda reassurance more than ever,” his pet said. “Being so insecure at Times is part of being a Fertile, though.”

The entire group–with the exception of Bobby and Stonie–was startled when the Neko made to say something else, but didn’t get the chance before his eyes rolled up in his head and his chin dropped onto his chest. Even though they were now aware of his narcolepsy, they hadn’t actually seen it act up, so they almost thought he was in some kinda medical trouble till his doctor laughed. Pointing at the monitor, he made them take note of his heart rate being thirty-five–which was perfectly normal for when he was asleep, especially when he wasn’t sick.

It took a few moments, but soon enough, even Mick relaxed again when they heard the continuous beeps and saw his chest continue to rise and fall. Nikki’s breathing was still a bit labored, but nothing like it was when he was first brought to this VA hospital for treatment. At least he was getting better, even if they’d to cancel a few shows so he could _get_ that treatment, not to mention some rest.

Even after the rest of the group was forced to go back down to the bus ’cuz visiting hours’d Ended, the younger bassist was allowed to stay. He wouldn’t admit it aloud in front of the others, but Stonie knew he was one of Nikki’s Powers of Attorney in the event that something happened to the older bassist. Considering that Tom was getting older and such Travel took a bigger toll on him, no doubt he’d been sent in the elderly Neko’s place to keep tabs on him.

Bobby shifted back into his Fox form and burrowed himself down under the covers so that only his Sir’s hospital gown separated fur from flesh. He sighed contently as he settled down, careful to keep said covers bunched up so there was still a hole to allow him fresh Air, but wouldn’t show off his nose or whiskers to anyone who walked in. Animals weren’t allowed in hospitals, after all, and certainly not ones considered Wild like his alternate form was. It’d be a pain in the ass trying to get away from hospital security, if Stonie wasn’t there to stop them and make them think he was a therapy Animal, much like a seeing-eye Dog was.


	3. Two

A week later, Nikki was finally doing well enough to be released from the hospital he’d been taken to in the middle of the Night. He was still operating at only eighty percent at best, but he could at least breathe better and get to the bathroom on his own. Sure, he got winded quicker and easier than he normally did, but his band and managers were assured that–with Time and rest–he’d eventually get back to the same assholian bastard they knew and loved as much as hated.

It was during that week that he and Bobby came to the startling, but pleasant realization that they weren’t just friends and play partners–they were also mates. To be mated was akin to being Soul-bound in the Traditional Fae and Elvin manner, which was like marriage and handfasting combined put on steroids. Going by the Ancient Greek Myth, they were each others’ other halves, the parts of themselves lost when Zeus split their original eight-limbed, literal two-faced body apart and put them in two separate places. They were the parts of themselves they hadn’t even known was missing till they found each other, and there was only one reason they’d have overlooked such a significant thing.

Bobby’d been in a vulnerable place when they’d originally met, to the point that only seeing his Sir play with others when he was drunk and/or stoned convinced him to play with him, himself. The older bassist was usually too drunk and/or stoned–both for his chronic pain and narcolepsy–that he hadn’t been paying very good attention.

Since he was trapped in a hospital and couldn’t access the shit he usually kept himself wired and doped on, his senses’d been firing on all cylinders. Catching the younger bassist’s scent’d almost made him feel like he was high, and it was said younger bassist who’d caught sight of a telltale sign. Seeing his Sir’s eyes shift so they looked like a Cat’s while he was still in human form was surprising, but a clear sign that he’d found his mate. Being the only other person in the room at the Time, he’d known it was his scent Nikki was catching when his eyes did that.

“Ya better keep your ass parked right there in that bed, Sir,” Bobby was saying. Since they’d caught up with Guns n’ Roses–Mötley’s opener for this part of the tour–he was filling in for his mate.

“I know, I know,” the older bassist chuckled. “If I get up for anything but to piss, you’re gonna have Elvin Rikki chain me down.”

“Damn right,” he told him. “I don’t need my Sir and mate bashing his skull in again ’cuz he was pushing himself too hard.”

“Even though _you’ve_ only had a few months off from tour, yourself,” Nikki reminded him with a smirk.

“I mighta only been off the road for five months, but I’m also not the one who still has Healing incisions from chest tubes in my sides,” the younger bassist shot back, his grin belying any true Anger and snarkiness.

“Get on outta here before I’ve to turn ya over my knee and paddle that ass bright red again,” he laughed, coughing into his elbow seconds later.

“I think we both know I’d like that too much, Sir,” Bobby chuckled, kissing his forehead before he left.

Sighing as he settled back into the mound of pillows his mate’d stuffed behind him, he grabbed the remote off the nightstand next to him. If he couldn’t go storm the stage with his band ’cuz he was still a bit too weak, he could at least watch TV, even if the only thing on right now was _Headbanger’s Ball_. He just couldn’t sit in total Silence by himself, or he’d start to go even more insane than he already was, which wouldn’t be good.

About an hour after the younger bassist left their hotel room, a knock sounded at the door and startled Nikki from the light doze he’d slipped into. Rubbing his eyes as he sat up and yawned, he wondered who on Earth could be knocking on his door right now. Everybody on the tour knew he’d just gotten outta the hospital and needed to rest, and besides, they were at the nearby venue.

Taking a look through the peephole after bending down from his towering height of six-six, the older bassist was both surprised and confused to see a vaguely familiar face on the other side of the door. He didn’t know the kid personally, but he’d heard of Eric Martin and seen a few of his gigs around the Greater Los Angeles area when he wasn’t on tour, himself. Still, it was a surprise to find him outside his hotel room, if only ’cuz he was wondering not only what he was doing here, but how he’d known where to find him.

“Uh, can I help ya, kid?” he asked after opening the door.

“More like I should be asking if I can come in,” Eric chuckled.

Sticking his head out to take a look around, the older bassist didn’t see anyone else out in the hall, and he’d have sensed if there was a Glamoured being nearby. “Yeah, I guess–kinda don’t have the Energy to do much right now.”

“So Rikki told me when I found him,” he said as he entered the hotel room. “How’re ya doing, by the way?”

“Better than I was this Time a week ago, for sure,” Nikki responded as he closed the door. “And by Rikki, I’m assuming you’re talking about a certain lovable jackass of an Elf?”

“That’d be the one,” the younger musician answered, nodding.

“All right–so, what made ya go Elf-hunting?” he asked.

“More like, what made me go Marine-hunting,” Eric countered as he reached into his pocket, which made him reach for the pistol tucked into the back of his waistband in response. “Relax, man–I’m not armed.”

Cocking a brow at him skeptically, the older bassist remained on the defensive till he simply pulled out a piece of paper.

“My mother gave this to me not long after the guy I called _Dad_ all my Life died in a car accident earlier this Year,” he told him, handing over the small scrap of paper.

“My condolences, kid,” Nikki said, even as he looked down to unfold it.

“Eh, I’m not really bothered by it,” the younger musician said with a shrug that wasn’t quite as nonchalant as he was going for. “Yeah, he Influenced me a lot musically, but knowing what I do now–well, it Changes a lotta shit.”

“And I’m guessing this note’s got something to do with it?” he asked.

“Everything to do with it,” Eric sighed as they settled on the foot of the bed. “Mom swore it’d answer every question I’d ever asked her about why I didn’t look anything like my supposed dad, but it’s just sparked new questions instead of answering old ones.”

“So, why’re ya coming to me?” the older bassist asked.

“’Cuz I ran into Rikki on the street one Day, and we just started talking,” he answered. “He turned pale as a Ghost when he read this note and said I needed to talk to _you_ about it.”

Wondering why his friend woulda told this kid that, Nikki simply looked down at the scrap of paper he’d been handed. At first glance, it looked like a page ripped outta someone’s diary, considering how small it was since it obviously wasn’t a sheet of loose-leaf paper. It was obviously pretty old, but in pretty good shape for its age–enough that, though faded, the words written on it were still legible.

His eyes widened before he’d even read the first word on the page, much to the younger musician’s surprise. As he scanned down the handwritten note, he almost prayed to the Gods for him _not_ to find what he thought he might, but wasn’t exactly surprised when he _did_. The older bassist knew Eric prolly couldn’t make out what the signature at the bottom of the short, curt note said, but he could all too well. It’d be a sad Day when he didn’t recognize his own signature, even though he hadn’t borne this particular rank in decades, the name in about nine Years.

Looking up at him, he couldn’t help how his mouth and throat suddenly dried out so that they were parched like the Desert out in Death Valley. Images of a different Time and place suddenly bombarded him, playing out across his mind’s eye like a short, but old movie. Nikki saw himself playing with a lil boy in the front yard of a small, quaint house that obviously wasn’t in Los Angeles–or anywhere near California, for that matter.

“…kki–Nikki?”

Snapping outta the trance he’d accidentally slipped into, the older bassist looked up at his impromptu guest.

“Dude, ya all right?” Eric asked, worried about how he’d zoned out so hard as he stared at him.

“L-Lee?” was all he could manage to get out, his throat tight with Emotion.

“How’d ya know my middle name?” the younger musician countered, startled.

“OhmiGoddess,” Nikki breathed, grabbing him and hauling him against his chest for a tight hug. “I can’t believe my own eyes, and I’m staring the Truth in the face.”

“Uh, da fuq this crazy musician talking about?” he asked, awkwardly Returning the hug.

“I’m guessing one of the things your mother wouldn’t tell ya was who the author of this note was,” the older bassist sighed as he pulled away after a few moments.

“Nope, not a word,” Eric answered, shaking his head.

“The reason Rikki paled and told ya to find and come talk to me–he recognized the signature,” he told him.

The younger musician’s brow furrowed as he looked to where he was pointing.

“That signature–it was mine back in the early-to-mid sixties, kid,” Nikki told him.

“Wait a minute– _what!?”_ He couldn’t help his jaw dropping in shock as he gaped back up at him.

“It says _2ndLt. Feranna,”_ the older bassist said, grabbing his Journal and a pen. Seconds later, he’d written the same rank and surname exactly like he’d written it over twenty Years ago.

“Oh, my God,” Eric breathed, eyes wide with shock. “That means…”

“Frederick was never your dad, ’cuz _I_ am,” he said, nodding.

“Then where the hell’ve ya been all these Years?” the younger musician demanded, now starting to sound a bit pissed.

Taking a deep breath that he released in a heavy sigh, Nikki Conjured up what he’d need to actually prove his words to him. As he flipped open the aging file folder, he explained how he’d gotten his draft notice shortly after his birthday in 1964, which’d gotten him deployed to Vietnam only a couple months later. What he was holding in his hands were his old military records, which only his former commanding officer possessed copies of.

Eric couldn’t help gaping as he let him leaf through the pages, his hand moving of its own accord to stop him when he saw something familiar. There was a certain locket his mother went apeshit over to this Day, although she rarely wore it anymore–and the picture Hidden within it was staring up at him. He’d recognize the face anywhere, even though the man in the old black-and-white photo looked nothing like the man sitting next to him right now. Well, he’d take that back by saying that he still looked as Youthful as back then, just with a softer expression and definitely more hair.

Said hair was way longer than it’d been back then, and while he didn’t know exactly what Color it was, the younger musician knew it wasn’t as Dark as it was now. It mighta been some shade of blonde, or even tinged with red, but it certainly wasn’t brown or black like that of the man he sat next to on the hotel bed.

In addition to that, there was a hat resting on his head that both denoted he was a high-ranking officer, as well as hid the ears peeking up outta his hair now. Not only that, but the hardened eyes staring up at him appeared like they’d be blue, were the photo in Color, not the Jade they were at the current moment. Those observations startled him, but made Nikki chuckle when he told him what was on his mind in response to being gently prodded. He certainly wasn’t expecting the man’s appearance to suddenly Change right before his eyes, which he’d never seen anybody else do. Gone were the black hair and Jade eyes, now replaced by Golden tresses and eyes the Color of a Cloudless afternoon Sky.

“Holy fuck–what the fuck did ya just do, and how’d ya do it?” Eric asked, startled.

“Dropped my Glamour,” the older bassist chuckled.

“Dropped your what, now?” he asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“I’m what’s called a D’Artemis Witch, among many other things,” Nikki explained. “Meaning that magick’s literally in my blood–and very likely yours, too.”

“Wait, is that why shit’d spontaneously explode when I’d get mad as a kid?” the younger musician asked, gaping once again.

“Sounds like ya definitely inherited my Power,” he chuckled, nodding. “Even though ya didn’t inherit the Neko features and ability to shift.”

Eric looked confused again, unable to help the gasp he let out when the man beside him suddenly turned into a Cat.

_“Mrow.”_ The older bassist gently head-butted his hand as Cats typically did, letting out a loud purr when he gave in to his demand to pet him.

“Holy fuckin’ shit,” he breathed as he shifted back just as suddenly. “I’m not on drugs, so I’m tempted to ask if I’ve gone schizo or something.”

“You’re not hallucinating shit,” Nikki laughed. “That’s _my_ department–for a couple different reasons–son.”

For what felt like the hundredth Time since his mother’d given him that note, the younger musician felt confused and lost at Sea, so to speak. He’d known that he didn’t look anything like the man he called _Dad_ growing up, but beyond that, he didn’t know anything about himself or his Ancestry. Course, anything he’d been told about the latter coulda very well been a well-thought-out lie on his mother’s part, and he knew it.

Chuckling, the older bassist explained what’d happened to him after his deployment to Vietnam, not surprised when Eric looked downright flabbergasted and even a lil sick. Purposely not showing him the pictures taken by the medical team to document his recovery–they were fuckin’ grotesque, after all–he let him read the actual file on what’d happened.

He wasn’t surprised by his long-lost son’s complexion turning a light shade of green as he read, nor that he’d to stop reading only partway through. Even in such a formal fashion, the descriptions of him that were encountered during those Days and weeks were enough to make just about anyone feel at least a bit nauseous. Knowing that they were related–quite literally bound by blood–prolly made reading such a thing that much harder for him. No doubt he didn’t wanna imagine his dad in such a state, and definitely didn’t wanna see the actual pictures of it.

“How the fuck’re ya even still alive?” the younger musician asked, looking as shocked as he did Awed when he looked back up at him.

“A damned good medical team, a stroke of dumb Luck–or five–and just being too Goddess-Blessed stubborn to simply lay down and die,” Nikki chuckled, turning his head to cough into the crook of his elbow.

His son couldn’t help a wince at how he sounded before he settled down.

“Granted, I still suffer from the aftermath of that shit,” the older bassist said once he’d caught his breath.

“I’m not sure if I wanna know whatcha mean,” Eric admitted.

“Shell-shock, chronic pain, and a whole other host of problems that stem from the remaining brain damage,” he told him.

The younger musician winced at the Thought.

“I mean, there’re Days when my legs feel weak as a kitten’s from blowing out pretty much my entire spine, which left me paralyzed from the waist down for two Years,” Nikki said. “Then there’s the narcolepsy–which includes nightmares and vivid Dreams, hallucinations and full-body paralysis as I’m falling asleep and when I first wake up–hormonal imbalances, having a hard Time regulating my body temp, etc.”

_“Day-um,”_ he said, wincing again.

“Honestly, it feels like it’s freezing in here right now,” the older bassist admitted, reaching up to rub his right arm in a typical move to generate some heat.

“Feels like I’m standing next to a roaring Fire to me,” Eric told him.

“Which’s what I mean by having problems regulating my body temp,” he chuckled. “I get both hyper- _and_ hypothermic quicker and easier than most, and I won’t always notice it.”

“Shit, how the fuck do ya manage to go onstage?” the younger musician asked, now worried about his Health.

“Rikki taught me how to spell myself to temporarily avoid that problem,” Nikki answered. “And if I don’t feel like I can maintain the spell for the entire show, he does it for me from afar.”

“I still can’t believe you’re even still alive, never mind more than a vegetable on Life support,” he mused.

The older bassist couldn’t help a laugh as he agreed wholeheartedly, telling him that was why–although it often seemed the total opposite–he was grateful for every Day that he woke up. He knew he coulda been far worse off than what he was, even if it was just by being wheelchair-bound or left with two useless stumps.

Eric couldn’t help his sudden urge to grab him in a tight hug, part of him never wanting to let go of him again. In a way, he’d lost him when he was just a lil kid ’cuz he’d gotten deployed overseas, his mother being told he’d died in a faraway Land and wouldn’t be coming home to them. He’d lost him in a totally different way when those resulting injuries’d apparently locked up certain memories and thrown away the key for over a decade. There was no way in hell he was gonna lose him again, if he could help it–not when they’d just finally been reunited it.

Nikki didn’t bother trying to pull away, even though he normally wasn’t much of a touchy-feely kinda Cat aside from a select few. This was his son, the lovable accident that’d gotten him saddled with a wedding band and a marriage license after a shotgun wedding–his flesh and blood. He couldn’t find it in himself to deny such a simple action, especially as near and dear as he held his family, even those he claimed as such.

By the Time Bobby and the rest of the band and their managers Returned from the venue, father and son were curled up on the bed together, fast asleep. The younger bassist wasn’t quite sure what to make of his mate cuddling another man so tenderly, which was when he noticed everything that was still laying on the nightstand. It didn’t take him more than a minute to put the pieces together, a tired smile drifting across his face as he closed the folder and sent it back to its normal hiding place. Yawning softly as he shifted, he simply jumped up on the bed and settled so he was mostly in said mate’s lap, Nikki sighing and smiling in his sleep as his hand found the fur now between his legs.


	4. Three

_March, 1992_

_Thousand Oaks, California_

Nikki was currently at the house he’d lived in technically ever since he’d finally gotten discharged from the hospital after his encounter with a landmine. He’d owned the place for far longer than that, but it’d served as more of a hideaway when he was on leave–later off the road from a tour and not in the studio–than anything else. Finding his mate once he was sober enough to realize that Poison’s bassist filled that role’d Changed things as much as being reunited with a long-lost son had, though.

Ever since that Time, he and Bobby’d not only maintained their close bond from being friends, lovers, play partners, and mates, but they’d also accidentally started a family. Sometime around late-February of 1990 when he’d gotten Elvin Rikki to help him pop in for a late, but surprise Valentine’s visit, the younger bassist’d conceived their son. Neither of them were planning such a thing, considering that Nikki’d been in the middle of the grueling _Dr. Feelgood World Tour_ at the Time. This kit was just as much a happy, lovable accident as his older brother, but both his parents agreed on one thing–they’d lay down their very Lives for him, if the need ever arose.

Said older brother often came down from the Bay Area to visit them when all three were home from a tour. Eric–normally called Lee to differentiate between him and Rikki–had teamed up with three other musicians in 1988 to form the now-super group, Mr. Big. He was often just as busy as his dad and stepdad, but being what he now knew was a full-blooded Italian, he held his family near and dear.

However, while a lotta good had happened in the last four Years or so, it came with its fair share of bad, too. Things’d gotten tense with the rest of Mötley after the older bassist’d insisted on them going to rehab to get their acts cleaned up after the conclusion of the debaucherous–and nearly disastrous– _Girls_ tour. Now those tensions were coming to a head in the form of Vince deciding that he’d dealt with enough of their shit and that his Time was more valuable to being stuck in a recording studio. As far as Nikki was concerned, he’d decided to quit, but he still maintained that–in actuality–he’d been fired from the band following a heated argument about a month ago.

“Sweet Goddess alive,” the older bassist groaned.

“I know the feeling, love,” Bobby said sympathetically, rubbing his back as he sat hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees. Poison’d gone through much the same turmoil just a few months ago, only with their lead guitarist rather than their front man.

“Part of me just wantsta say fuck it and disband,” he sighed as he lifted his head. “Then again, the other part of me’s never been a quitter without damn near dying being what stopped me from doing I set out to do.”

“And your band’s been your wet Dream and brain child for prolly as long as my own band’s been mine,” the younger bassist said with a nod.

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly say that,” Nikki chuckled. “More like I was just bored and needed something else to do with myself before I burnt half of Los Angeles to the ground.”

“Considering what Tom’s told me about your kittenhood, I wouldn’t put that beneath ya!” he laughed. “I mean, c’mon–setting your neighbors’ barns ablaze with their cattle _inside_ for the Night?”

“Hey, it was El Paso in in the mid-nineteenth Century!” the older bassist shot back with a grin.

“I don’t think ya needed to go against a Witch’s moral code by killing innocent Animals–and certainly not as an arsonist,” Bobby told him.

“Okay, so maybe I _coulda_ found better things to do with myself,” he admitted. “Course, I guess ya could say I _did_ when I enlisted in 1870.”

“Part of me’s still amazed that I’m mated to such an old Cat,” the younger bassist playfully teased.

“Watch it, pet, or I’ll show ya what a dirty old Cat I am,” Nikki warned, the glint in his eyes downright dirty.

“As if I wouldn’t–” he started, only to get cut off by a knock at the front door. “I wonder who that is?”

“Prolly Doug,” the older bassist told him, groaning as he pushed himself up off the couch.

“I’ma go check on Zach, then,” Bobby said. “Ya know I don’t like being nearby, if a fight breaks out.”

Nodding, he snagged a quick kiss from his much-younger mate as he headed to the front door, said mate heading upstairs. Even though he was normally a spit-Fire in his own right, being a Fertile could make him a bit timid at Times–and with a bad Past he still wouldn’t talk about, that was made even worse more often than not.

The younger bassist was outta sight upstairs, having made the U-turn to cross the balcony-like breezeway that’d take him into the area where three of the bedrooms were, before Nikki bothered opening the front door. He was surprised when he didn’t find his band’s now-lone manager, but rather his grampa, former commanding officer, and two other unfamiliar men on his front stoop and walkway. Course, he still snapped to attention and snapped off a crisp salute to the pair of Marines outta habit, both chuckling as they Returned the gesture.

“Dare I ask what the hell you’re paying me a visit for, Black Cat?” he asked once he’d been given permission to relax to the _at-ease_ position.

“Might be better if we talk about this inside,” Black Cat–his former commanding officer–answered. “And preferably with ya sitting down, soldier.”

“Hey, I haven’t gone off my meds again since the last Time I got sick!” the older bassist laughed, a bit wary even as he let the group in.

“Hey, it’s better to assume thatcha did and be pleasantly surprised to find out thatcha haven’t,” he shot back with a grin.

_“Potresti voler stare un pò di sopra, amore,”_ Nikki called upstairs as he closed the front door, not realizing the other two men understood his every word.

_“Presumo che non sia_ Doug?” the younger bassist countered, his voice a bit muffled.

_“No, è Nonno, Nero Gatto, e un paio di altri che ho ancora essere introdotto,”_ he answered, still not realizing they could be understood.

_“Quindi non aspettarti che torni giù fino a quando non se ne saranno andati_ – _i bizzarri, intendo,”_ Bobby called back, now sounding more than a hair wary.

Chuckling, the older bassist waved his unexpected guests over to the sofa and pair of arm chairs that decorated his formal living room. He chose to remain standing–despite his back hurting and today being one of his weak-legged Days–’cuz his guard was up. Till he knew who the other two mean were and what, if any threat they posed to him and his family, he Intended to be ready for anything. If that meant having to potentially suffer yet more crippling injuries that took him Years to recover from, if he ever did, so mote it be.

Tom figuratively took the reins since he knew his grandson–who actually didn’t share a drop of blood with him–better than anyone. He figured he’d take the news he was about to get from him best, even though he didn’t doubt that his former commanding officer’d a way with him, too. What he was about to find out might just make him collapse, despite claiming to still be on his narcolepsy medication.

Nikki cocked a brow as the elderly Neko insisted that he at least lean up against the wall, crossing his arms as he decided to humor him. His grampa’s obvious Anxiety–which he could feel rolling off him in Waves due to being so good at Energy work–was starting to make him nervous. Those words’d never come outta his mouth, but only a few people knew him well enough to tell what was on his mind without being able to literally pick his brain like Rikki could.

“Son, I don’t even have to ask if you’ve ever forgotten any part of your kittenhood, especially your mother,” he started.

“Don’t even _mention_ that demon-spawned bitch in my house, Grampa,” the older bassist literally growled. “Ya know I’d plug Lead between her eyes all over again, if I could.”

The pair he hadn’t been introduced to yet gasped sharply as their eyes widened in shock.

“One shouldn’t talk about their mother that way,” the obvious Neko of the pair gently admonished him once he’d regained his bearings.

“Trust me, she deserves worse than being called a bitch, considering all the shit she did or allowed to be done to me as a kitten,” Nikki snapped, glaring at him.

“Anywhore, I also don’t have to ask if ya remember the guy she swore was your father,” his grampa continued.

“Like that demon-spawned bitch, don’t mention _him_ in my house, either,” he growled, tail starting to flick testily.

“I’m only bringing ’em up, ’cuz–well, I’d rather ya be sitting down for this part, especially if it’s one of your weak-legged Days,” Tom told him.

Not seeing much of a choice since he knew how well the elderly Neko could hold his Silence till he was damn good and ready, the older bassist traded places with Black Cat–who kept his hands on his shoulders–so he was seated in the second arm chair.

“Son, these two’ve Traveled a long way to find ya,” he said. “I’m talking, high up in the Alps, long way.”

Nikki simply cocked a brow as he stared him down, those blue eyes he only showed at home–and at his mate’s insistence–downright piercing.

“This is King Franco Rinaldi of Rosalia and his Royal adviser, Janus di Felice,” the elderly Neko continued.

“Rosalia?” he asked, his brow furrowing. _“Nonno,_ I’ve been all over the World and then some, and I’ve never heard of a country by that name.”

“That’s ’cuz we’re relatively small, compared to the other countries in Europe,” the obvious Neko–King Franco–supplied through his thick accent. “Were we still a part of our mother country, _Italia,_ we’d be relatively the size of _la Provincia di Trentino_ directly to our South.”

His eyes widened in surprise as he came to the sudden realization that he’d understood every word he’d yelled upstairs to Bobby–and what his mate’d responded with.

_“Sì,_ we understood ya,” Franco chuckled. “We were born from Italian blood, although several Centuries ago, so it’s _our_ mother tongue, too.”

Seeing that the youngest Neko in the room was more than a bit startled, the Royal adviser cleared his throat.

“If you’ll allow me to give a bit of history on our Kingdom,” Janus said.

Not sure that he really had a choice, Nikki simply nodded as if he’d literally been struck dumb.

As if he’d practiced this for Years, maybe even decades–and maybe he _had_ –the man Began at the very Beginning and left out not even the smallest detail.

In the mid-sixteenth Century, the Creation of Rosalia–named after the Ancient Roman Rose Festival in Honor of the Goddesses Flora and Venus–came about due to the King of Italy, Bellini Capitani, being too kind-hearted to completely write off his Queen’s bastard son. It was unlike most men of the Time, who’d normally refuse to name him–or any other like him–their heir. Serafino was older than Barone, Bellini’s son with his Queen, but ’cuz he was the Queen’s bastard, he couldn’t be allowed to inherit the King’s Throne and Crown.

Serafino was reputedly just as wise, kind, and otherwise benevolent as the man who’d raised him as his own and gifted him with one of his Northernmost Provinces as his own Kingdom upon reaching his majority. According to the written records that’d been found sealed away in a vault so Ancient, it’d taken a mighty blast of spell Fire to open its door, his people’d loved him dearly. Many were said to’ve laid down their Lives for him, rather than watch him go to War against their immediate neighbors–Austria and Switzerland–or nearly be assassinated by any who disagreed with him. He was said to be the most-loved King in both Rosalian and Italian history, aside from his stepfather before him.

Some three Centuries later, Serafino quietly passed after months of illness that–no matter how many spells were cast on him and herbal remedies poured down his throat–he just couldn’t recover from. His Throne was left in the more-than-capable hands of his heir and only son, Franco–who now had a mammoth task before him.

Fearing the growing tensions between Italy, Austria, and Switzerland, Franco sent his young, pregnant Queen–Deana–to the US with her parents, Emma and Dwight. It was for her own good, but in her heartbroken state, she grew to hate the child cradled within her own body. Said child was a constant reminder of once again being a commoner in this new, foreign World from her husband sending her into exile, stripping her of the status and riches she’d fought so hard to attain.

“Dear fuckin’ Goddess,” Nikki breathed, eyes wide with shock as he concluded his tale.

_“Sì,_ I sent _tua madre_ away outta Fear for her Health and safety–as well as that of yourself once ya were born,” the King said, nodding.

“How can I be sure you’re not just pulling my leg?” he demanded, now looking suspicious.

Janus merely slid a sheet of old-World parchment across the coffee table to him, a neutral look on his face as he straightened again.

_“Dolce Giunone, Regina degli Dei,”_ the older bassist gasped, instantly recognizing his Birth Creature’s signature on what he now realized was a marriage license–that was in solid Italian.

“We were wed in the Summer of 1848, as ya can see,” Franco told him. “It took a couple Years and more than one attempt for us to conceive and her carry long enough to show physical proof.”

“Into her second trimester, ya mean,” Nikki supplied, handing the marriage license back to the Royal adviser.

The King merely cocked a brow at him, considering he was still of a more old-World mindset.

“He means the second set of three months, my Liege,” said adviser explained with a chuckle before turning his attention to him. “Although I’m not sure how ya knew what the term was.”

Before he could get a chance to answer, a sharp, irritable cry rang out from upstairs, making him surge to his feet.

_“Ahhhh,”_ Janus said, letting out another chuckle. “So _that’s_ the way of things, eh?”

The older bassist was ignoring him as he darted up the stairs two at a Time, recognizing Zach’s pissed-off cry that he let out whenever he wanted him, but Bobby was keeping them separated for him to work or sleep. In his nursery, said Year-old baby was pitching an utter bitch fit as his mama held him against his chest, gently bouncing him as he tried to Calm him.

Nikki let out a soft chuckle that grabbed his mate’s attention and made him whirl to face him with a surprised gasp. He gently took their son, who snuggled against him with a thumb in his mouth and grabbed his shirt in a Death grip with his other hand. There was no separating them now, which made him sigh as he kissed the boy’s head while weighing his options. While he didn’t necessarily wanna expose him to any potential Dangers, he doubted Tom and Black Cat woulda brought the other two over unless they didn’t sense any threat.

Additionally, Rikki was no doubt hiding in plain sight with a Glamour no one but another Elf could see through, and he could easily stop them in their tracks with a single word. If not for knowing the Power his friend and kittenhood father figure wielded, as well as the Love he held for him, he wouldn’t have looked up at Bobby with a thoughtful look on his face. Granted, said mate’s guard instantly rose, ’cuz he knew his mate was about to say something he was bound not to like.

“Love, the weirdos that’re with _Nonno e Nero Gatto_ –they’re not gonna hurt any of us,” he said.

“Howddaya know that, though?” the younger bassist asked, crossing his arms as he cocked a brow.

“From what I’ve heard so far, they’d lay down their Lives for me–and that means you and Zach, even Lee, too,” Nikki answered. “They’ve been searching for too long to harm me at this late date, especially considering the reason for our estrangement to Begin with.”

“Wait, what’re ya talking about?” he asked, now looking confused as he shifted his weight to his other foot.

“Unless I’m mistaken–and I’m fairly certain I’m not…” The older bassist took a deep breath, magick at the ready to catch him in case he passed out. “I’m the son of one Franco Rinaldi–the Crown Prince of Rosalia.”


	5. Four

Bobby’s jaw dropped so low, he’d have sworn he could step on his bottom lip as his eyes nearly popped outta their sockets. He didn’t even notice his arms dropping from their crossed position to hang limply by his sides, his ears buzzing like they housed a pair of Beehives. A part of him was tempted to laugh–not just at his mate’s claim, but at the Thought that said mate musta once heard something eerily similar after getting blown Sky-high.

Frowning, Nikki steadied him with a simple wave of his hand when he swayed, his magick essentially forming a glittering tube around the younger bassist. At least if he fainted and fell–of which, there was a very good possibility–he wouldn’t hit his head and suffer a TBI of his own. Even as he worried about having hit the _eject_ button on his Sanity, though, a lil giggle rang out from the vicinity of his chest.

“Mama looks funny right now, doesn’t he?” the older bassist chuckled as he gently bounced their son.

“Well, can ya fuckin’ blame me?” Bobby asked, finally starting to regain his wits. “I mean, think about whatcha just told me!”

“Hey, I literally _just_ found out about it, myself,” he laughed. “I’m just as shell-shocked–I’ve just got more practice at hiding it from being a former Marine.”

“No fuckin’ shit,” the younger bassist grumbled. “Sometimes I wonder aboutcha–others, I know better than to waste the brain power.”

Nikki couldn’t help another chuckle as he leaned down the mere six inches that separated them in height and gave him a gentle kiss.

“Now, clarify this one thing for me,” he said. “Who’s supposed to be who? Is _he_ the Crown Prince, or are _you?_ ’Cuz I think my brain short-circuited for a minute.”

“Franco’s the current King, which makes _me_ the Crown Prince since I’m apparently the only child of his _true_ union, as they said in the Days of Olde,” the older bassist explained.

“Goddess fuck,” Bobby sighed, shoving his hair back as he ran his fingers through it. “And what’s gonna happen, if ya don’t do anything about being this Crown Prince?”

He let out a sigh of his own as he admitted that they hadn’t even come close to getting that far, ’cuz Zach’s pissy screech’d cut them off before they could. Said baby giggled as he wrapped his arms around his neck, almost sounding as if he was proud of having interrupted the conversation downstairs. Course, such antics were his norm, but considering he was the son of both a D’Anu and D’Artemis Witch, no doubt he could feel all the tension even from up here.

The younger bassist let out another sigh as he finally said that he’d come downstairs and at least listen in–but he wasn’t staying in human form to do it. Nikki wasn’t the slightest bit surprised by that, ’cuz shifting around strangers–when he wasn’t doing a meet-and-greet or something band-related, that is–was often his norm.

Seconds later, the familiar form of his Silver Fox sat on its haunches at his feet, and the older bassist chuckled as he _mrawed_ at him. Turning to head downstairs, the older bassist kept their son snuggled against his chest, knowing that even more Secrets’d be brought to Light in the near Future. After all, he’d no doubt have to explain his military and resulting medical Past to King Franco–his father–as well as Enlighten him to having a bastard son of his own. Well, Lee technically wasn’t a bastard any more than he really considered his younger son such–he’d been legally wed to Lee’s mother at the Time of his Birth, after all.

Franco and Janus looked both surprised and not to see him come back downstairs with an infant snuggled against his chest. Considering they’d heard the screech from upstairs that’d sent him running, they’d figured there was a baby involved, but they didn’t know how old said baby was. In all Honesty, they still couldn’t tell how old he was, given that both parents were taller than average, so he was taller than an average one-Year-old. They were even more surprised, though, when their Crown Prince reclaimed his seat and a Silver Fox immediately jumped up to claim one side of his lap.

“You’ve a pet Fox, _figlio?”_ the King asked.

Before he could answer, Bobby let out a low warning growl.

“Bobby, hush–you’re the one who shifted, not him,” he told him, gently scratching his ears.

Both their previously-unknown visitors looked confused.

“Sorry–Bobby’s my mate, and a Zorro,” Nikki explained. “He tendsta get uncomfortable around folks he doesn’t know, which usually leadsta him shifting into his Fox form.”

_“He_ and _your mate?”_ the Royal adviser asked, clearly surprised.

“You’ve been around Franco long enough to know he’s a Neko, I’m sure,” the older bassist said.

“Since the Day I reached my majority and took my Throne upon my own father’s Death,” Franco answered, nodding. “Being D’Artemis certainly has its perks, even if one’s not also something like a Neko.”

“Zorros’re our Fox equivalent, if that makes any sense,” he told them.

“Which means your mate’s a Fertile,” his father said, Enlightenment suddenly Dawning.

“Exactly, which means he’s just as much this lil guy’s parent as I am,” Nikki agreed, ruffling the lil bit of hair on Zach’s head.

Said baby squealed happily, but still snuggled close to him as if afraid of the weirdos in his house.

“He’s so adorable,” both said in unison, their words laced with a chuckle.

“Eh, he’s not the only grandkitten Franco’s got, but we’ll get to that in a minute,” the older bassist chuckled. “I’m more of a mind to talk more about this being a Crown Prince thing, and so’s Bobby since he actually asked me about it upstairs.”

The King seemed a bit surprised to find out this baby wasn’t his only grandkitten since he hadn’t seen any other kittens–literal or figurative–running around. However, he quickly settled back into the business mode he’d been in before their conversation was interrupted by this lil guy. Plenty needed to be discussed, for this whole revelation no doubt Changed quite a bit in the Life of his son and heir.

Even Bobby’s ears were cocked toward them, those Chocolate eyes locked on them with the precision of a laser sight on a weapon. None of them wanted to miss a single letter, let alone word, of what this guy said since it could affect everything from where they lived to their careers. Hopefully, they’d be able to make a slow Transition that wouldn’t leave anyone locked up in a nut house for Life, but they’d have to wait and see. It depended mostly on whether the older bassist was about to be forced into taking a Throne he hadn’t even known he was to inherit.

Luckily for them, Franco was in far better Health and Spirits than one’d think after sending his Queen away and spending over a Century without her. He was more than fit to rule for at least another Century, if that was what he wanted and provided that he didn’t contract a terminal disease in the meantime. The younger bassist actually started settling down in his mate’s lap more as they were told that, his form not quite as tense as it’d been.

“Well, at least there’s that,” Nikki chuckled. “Gives me Time to get more than a few affairs straight, if I’ma be forced to move halfway across the Globe, at least.”

“We kinda figured you’d need Time to do such things, Your Highness,” the Royal adviser said with a chuckle of his own, which made him grimace.

“If you’re gonna refer to me by a title, stick to _Major General,”_ he told them. “Anything Royalty-related is gonna take some Time to wrap my head around.”

Both cocked a brow at him curiously.

“That’s where I come in,” Black Cat laughed. “Nikki’s a former Marine, and one of my former piss-ons. Hell, I’ll go so far as to say he was prolly _the_ best soldier I ever had the Honor of ordering to even scrub my shitter with a toothbrush and make me a sammich on the seat when he was done.”

Even Bobby looked up at him in surprise, making him laugh as most of the jaws in the room dropped.

“Now ya know where I get _my_ unorthodox, but effective punishments from when the guys do something to piss me off,” Nikki said with his typical devilish smirk.

“Well–okay, then,” the King sitting across from the lil family said.

“Anywhore, he’s more used to being referred to by his rank– _Major General_ –or his call sign, if one’s gonna use a title,” his former commanding officer continued. “So it’s nothing against either of ya, personally–it’s more of sticking to what he’s already familiar with till he wraps his head around the rest.”

“That’s fair enough,” Franco agreed, nodding. “So, am I to assume he no longer serves this country as one of its top officers?”

“I ain’t served since I was _Honorably Discharged_ in ’75,” the older bassist answered. “And to be quite frank about it, I never will again unless America gets into _that_ bad of trouble or something.”

Even Janus looked a bit confused by that, clearly wondering if that was a personal choice, or if there was something else going on. Taking a deep breath, he recounted how he’d been officially diagnosed with a couple Health problems that technically made him unfit to serve, but he’d proven that he still could, even despite that. It was as he prepared himself to tell them about what’d gotten him discharged from the Corps that Tom reached over and squeezed his hand.

The oldest Neko turned his attention back to the King and his Royal adviser, telling them it was better if he explained it. His memory was far clearer, even after a lil over twenty Years, since he hadn’t sustained those injuries and been kept in a medical coma. Jaws dropped a bit again, and they instinctively knew that whatever they were about to be told wasn’t the slightest bit good.

Both were horrified when his grampa started with how he and his now-late grama’d gotten the call telling them to head down to San Diego. He and Nona’d both known damn good and well that the only reason Nikki’d be taken there was ’cuz he was being taken to the Naval hospital there, considering he’d been drafted and sent overseas to Vietnam. They weren’t told how bad he was hurt, just that it wasn’t looking good, and they immediately knew they might very well be making the three-hour drive South to say their goodbyes and collect his corpse. It was walking in to see him bruised, broken, and completely unidentifiable aside from a specific tattoo on his hips that’d shocked them stupid.

Neither Franco, nor Janus could hide their horror as his former commanding officer handed them the file that pertained to what they were talking about. Leafing through it, the older bassist wasn’t surprised to see them turn as green as Lee’d turned when they found out about _their_ shared blood a few Years ago. The difference between now and then was that he’d protected his older son as much as he could by _not_ letting him see the accompanying pictures.

“Dear Goddess above,” the King breathed. “How on Earth did ya survive, _figlio?”_

“As I told my older son a few Years ago, a damn good medical team, a stroke of dumb Luck–or five–and simply being too Goddess-Blessed stubborn to lay down and die,” Nikki chuckled.

His mate finally shifted so he was sitting in his lap much like their son. “And he’s not kidding about being too Goddess-Blessed stubborn to die, either.”

Both their guests looked at him curiously, their brows cocked.

“I watched him get a case of pneumonia so bad not long before I got pregnant that his heart stopped,” Bobby explained. “I thought I was about to lose my mate, but Stonie stubbornly kept working till he got his heart restarted. After that, he spent a month in the hospital, one of his friends filling in for him so his band wouldn’t even know what’d happened.”

“Yeah, the _Feelgood_ tour was seriously _that_ insane,” the older bassist laughed.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re not talking about a tour of military duty?” the Royal adviser asked.

“’Cuz I’m not,” Nikki answered. “Bobby and I both’re in pretty successful bands, and we’ve to support the albums we release _somehow.”_

“No doubt another one of those affairs you’d need Time to get in order,” his father commented.

“Well, yeah–Mötley Crüe and Poison’re both based here in Los Angeles,” he told them.

“No way’re we just gonna up and move halfway across the Globe without either working something out with our bands, or disbanding altogether,” Bobby agreed. “It’s not easy getting a band to the height of Success like we’ve managed to do, and we’re not just gonna throw that away.”

Franco shot a look at the man sitting beside him. “The very kinda Dedication we need in a Crown Prince,” he told him. “And at least I’m still fit to rule for now, so neither necessarily hasta give that up for a good, long while, if they don’t wanna.”

“My only question at this point pertainsta his sons,” Janus admitted. “He’s gonna need an heir of his own eventually.”

The older bassist snorted and told them that if they thought they were gonna stick him in some arranged marriage, that wasn’t gonna happen. He was already handfasted to his mate, and he’d made the mistake of letting his record label talk him into a publicity marriage, a contract outlining everything expected of both parties and all. What’d been expected of him was ten Years of marriage and at least one kitten, but his now-ex-wife’d gotten too demanding and started trying to Change things outlined in the contract they’d already signed.

Nikki’d kept up his End of the bargain and marrying the broad in May of ’89, not to mention allowing his semen be used to artificially inseminate her. That insemination’d led to a third son for him, whom he didn’t get to see, now that they were officially divorced. It hurt bad enough to know that Gunner wasn’t getting any Time with him or his older brothers, and he wasn’t going through that again.

Assuring him that no such thing’d happen, the King made it clear that no arranged or otherwise publicity marriages’d be required on his part. Once he’d taken the Throne in the early-eighteenth Century, he’d rewritten certain laws to help Rosalia move into the more Modern Age. One of the laws he’d rewritten was that of having an arranged marriage to another Royal party from a different country, considering that he preferred marrying for Love, if he could. He’d thought he’d loved his Queen when they met–and he supposed a part of him still did–but it’d become obvious pretty quickly that such an Emotional marriage wasn’t meant to work out.

Even Bobby was surprised to hear that the tensions between the countries bordering Rosalia were the biggest reasons Franco’d sent his pregnant Queen away, but that hadn’t been all of it. If he were completely honest, she’d let the Power and Fortune of being in such a position go to her head far too much. The fact that she’d started out as a poor farmer’s daughter didn’t help that, but he’d been hoping she wouldn’t get quite as bad as she had.

“Honestly, I simply couldn’t take her behavior anymore,” the King sighed. “Much like many men of the Time demanding intercourse simply to procreate, she demanded money and jewels from the Royal Treasury for the most ridiculous reasons.”

“Sounds like the demon-spawned bitch I grew up with,” Nikki grumbled.

“Deana expected to live a lavish Lifestyle without having to put in any kinda work for it,” he continued. “And while she was able to within certain bounds, she needed to be trained on how to run a country, should misfortune ever befall me and she _had_ to.”

“But she wasn’t willing to get that kinda training, was she?” the younger bassist asked.

“No, what she wanted was to be able to take over and rule like a dictator,” Franco answered. “And since my father before me didn’t rule that way and I never have, I swore I’d be damned to the Pits of the Underworld before she would, either.”

He couldn’t help his surprise at the King’s vehemence when he said that.

“If you’ll allow me to recap the history of our country for our Crown Prince’s mate, my Liege?” Janus asked.

“Go ahead, Janus–you’re the historian here,” the King chuckled.

Nodding, the Royal adviser filled him in on the country’s history from the Time it’d been gifted to its original King up to the current Time.

“Sounds like a helluva country to live in,” he chuckled once he’d gotten the recap. “And I mean that in a good way.”

_“Sì, figlio,”_ the King responded with a chuckle of his own.

Bobby couldn’t help a slightly surprised look, knowing he’d just called him _son_.

“You’re mated to my _actual_ son, so that alone makes ya family,” he laughed. “If you’re wed on top of that, how can I _not_ call ya such?”

“We’re not legally married,” the older bassist spoke up. “Only handfasted.”

“Close enough, as far as I’m concerned,” Franco told them. “Am I to assume there’s a reason for that, or have ya just not wanted to wed?”

“America doesn’t recognize or allow same-sex marriages,” Nikki answered. “So whether we wanna or not, we can’t.”

“Not a problem you’ll find in Rosalia,” he said. “I never specified whether there was to be one of each gender, or if both parties could be the same one, in my laws. My requirement’s that an heir eventually be able to be produced by my own heir so the lineage and ruling family can continue well into the Future.”

The younger bassist couldn’t help but shoot a look at his mate, who shot one back at him as they contemplated those words. Maybe taking his Birth right as the Crown Prince of Rosalia wouldn’t be such a bad thing, if they could actually legally wed under the small Kingdom’s laws. Granted, he knew taking such a Birth right’d come with a shit-ton of Responsibility, but they both considered him up to the challenge.

Nikki explained to the pair of Rosalians that he’d once commanded full battalions, not just an entire platoon, during his Corps Days. Sure, it wasn’t the same thing as running an entire country, but it showed he obviously had leadership experience already. In addition, any gov’ment body they’d set up–like Congress and the British Parliament–could help with the actual governing.

After his discharge and forming his band in the early-eighties, he’d actually served more as their manager than the guy they’d signed a contract with. His band mates didn’t realize that’d been the case, as drunk and high as they usually were–and drugs and alcohol always affected Nekos and Zorros differently than humans. They hadn’t even noticed that he actually _still_ did a lotta the management, even under Doc and Doug, the latter of whom he still helped. Mick, Vince, and Tommy didn’t know much about his military Past, after all, just that he’d served and worked his way up to a pretty high rank over the course of his hundred and five Years in.

Franco nodded as he processed that information, agreeing that it’d certainly help him out in the long run, if ever came the Day that he was Crowned King. In the meantime, he just wanted him to think long and hard about actually claiming his Birth right, rather than making a rash decision. After all, he was still young enough that he could remarry and sire another heir, if need be–the older bassist could easily pass it up and let another have the Crown, Throne, and all the Responsibility that came with both of them.


	6. Five

The next Morn, Lee was exhausted as he trudged up his dad’s front walkway, his car parked in the driveway after picking it up from LAX when he landed. His band had just had a show in Vancouver the previous Night, then he’d immediately hopped a flight South at his first opportunity. Since they’d three more Days before the next one in Fresno about three and a-half hours North of his dad’s house, he’d wanted to drop in and see his family. After all, Rikki was always more than glad to use his _transference_ spell to get any of them to where they needed to be on Time.

Opening the front door after using his key to let himself in, he was careful to keep quiet since it was only about seven in the Morn. He knew Nikki’d a habit of getting up pretty early–even for a rock star–when he was off the road so he could take his meds on Time. But he normally didn’t get up before seven-thirty or eight unless he’d a flight to catch, or had just been up all Night.

He certainly wasn’t expecting someone to appear outta nowhere and slam him up against the wall, a knife pressed against his throat. Simply reacting, the younger musician reached up and grabbed the person’s wrist right at a specific pressure point his dad had taught him. The knife–which was more like a dagger than not–clattered to the hardwood that covered the entire expanse of the first story with the exception of the kitchen, den, and bathrooms.

“I dunno who the hell ya think ya are, but get your fuckin’ hands off me,” Lee snapped, glad he’d tied his long, curly hair back into a ponytail for once.

“You’re an intruder,” his attacker snarled, managing to free his wrist.

_“Ehi, giù le mani l'erede successivo al tuo Trono_ – _quello è un ordine!”_

Looking up at the sudden barrage of Italian–which he clearly understood since he’d known his mother was Italian all his Life–he was grateful to see the older bassist headed down the stairs, even though he was more than a bit confused.

“I thoughtcha didn’t have a break coming up for a while, son?” Nikki said, yawning as he stretched.

“We’ve another three Days till our show in Fresno,” he chuckled, reaching up to rub his throat. “Who the hell’s _this_ yahoo, and da fuq’d I just hear about a Throne?”

His dad chuckled as he pointed to the kitchen. “Better to plant your ass on one of the bar stools than for me to’ve to heft it up once I make sure you’re not gonna be leaking any brains.”

Lee couldn’t help cocking a brow, but nodded as he headed off to do as he’d been told since he knew whatever explanation there was, it was a big one.

“Everything all right down there, love?”

“Yeah, we’re good now,” he called upstairs in response to Bobby’s question. “And I’m ’bout to explain what’s going on to him.”

“I’ll be down in a few with Zach,” the younger bassist told him. “Boy needs a quick bath since he ’sploded his diaper again.”

Laughing softly, Nikki joined the other pair in the kitchen, moving to start on coffee and grab his meds as he was explaining. He knew his older son was gonna be shocked by the End of this tale, but then again, he and his mate’d been no less shocked just the Day previous. Such a reaction was expected to being told one was of Royal blood, but had never known such a thing in the Past.

The younger musician cocked a brow, arms crossed over his chest as he waited and noted how the third man was watching his dad curiously. He knew said dad wasn’t gonna explain shit till he’d taken his meds at the least, just in case he started laughing so hard, he nearly choked. In addition to the narcolepsy, he suffered from cataplexy–which was the paralysis of REM sleep and could be triggered by something as simple-stupid as laughing. None of them wanted him to wind up falling and cracking his head on the counter or something from it getting triggered, after all.

Once he’d injected the legal drugs that kept him from going limp and randomly falling asleep, the older bassist locked eyes on his son. He started with introducing the pair, not surprised by how Lee’s eyes widened in surprise when he was told he’d just gotten attacked by his own grandfather. Franco at least had the good sense to look embarrassed as he apologized, saying he wouldn’t have done such a thing, if he’d at least seen a picture of him before then.

“I can certainly see the resemblance, though,” the King admitted. “While you’ve more of your mother’s looks and definitely her coloring, I see parts of your father in ya, too.”

Nikki couldn’t help a laugh at his confusion. “He means the similar cheekbones and jaw angle, son.”

“Which you, yourself got from me,” he chuckled. “You’ve more of the roundness from your mother, but otherwise, you’re a clone of me.”

The older bassist rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out at him. “What’d I say about mentioning her in my house yesterday, Dad?”

“Hey, I’m just speaking the Truth,” Franco laughed.

“And so was I when I called her a demon-spawned bitch,” he told him. “And don’t ask for clarification, ’cuz I’m not getting into it unless ya want me having a nasty flashback.”

“I think we’d both rather that _not_ happen,” Lee spoke up before his grandfather could. “Course, I’m still curious about what led up to all this since ya told me your dad was dead–especially that Throne part.”

_“Nonno e Nero Gatto_ brought him and his buddy–whom I’m assuming is still upstairs–over yesterday afternoon,” Nikki started as he moved to pour his coffee. “Turns out, they’ve been looking for me technically since I was a baby.”

“Looking for ya?” the younger musician asked. “Why?”

“’Cuz Franco’s the King of a tiny European country called Rosalia,” he answered. “And _I’m_ his Crown Prince.”

Neither of them were surprised by his jaw dropping in shock–it’d been a common reaction in this particular house since the afternoon previous. In fact, they both chuckled as they gave him a minute to process that part before getting into said tiny country’s history again. They didn’t want his brain completely imploding, after all, especially since he was still in the middle of a tour with his own band.

Franco finally started to get into his country’s history, although he was quickly able to pass off that Torch to his Royal adviser just moments after starting. The man was not only his most trusted adviser, but his Royal historian, and since he preceded Bobby into the kitchen, he chose to let him reclaim his secondary role. While he didn’t have a horrible memory, _per sé,_ there were certainly details that he’d oft forget about since he wasn’t the one to record all the events that took place. He didn’t wanna leave out the slightest thing, if he could help it, when he could just let Janus do the job assigned to him.

Lee gladly took his baby brother, who reached for him with a somewhat sleepy whine once he saw him sitting on one of the bar stools at the End of the island furthest from the stove. He loved getting to spend Time with the lil tyke–and even the brother they didn’t really get to see anymore, due to the unfairness of Gunner’s mother. Even though he was listening to some pretty important explanations, he didn’t mind him sitting in his lap since he wasn’t wound up for the Day yet.

As the pair of Rosalians continued with their explanation, the younger bassist jumped into help his mate work on breakfast. He couldn’t explain why he loved to cook since he was more of a Water Witch than an Earth Witch, but he knew it was one of his favorite Creative avenues. Nikki was better than he was, though, due to both more experience with the Art and being a Fire Witch, who loved to cook as much as Earth Witches did. Whenever these two got into a kitchen together–or even the older bassist did by himself–whatever came outta said room was always mouth-watering. The aforementioned room oft looked like a bomb’d gone off in it by the Time they were done, but everyone loved their cooking.

“Okay, fuckin’ wow,” Lee chuckled as plates started getting passed out. “Gotta say, it’s definitely a wild tale.”

“Total _hold mah beer and watch this_ kinda moment, huh?” his dad asked with a grin.

“Fuck having somebody else hold my beer–I need that joker to go down my throat, along with a few more!” the younger musician laughed.

The entire group cracked up at that, Zach giggling more so just ’cuz everyone else was laughing than ’cuz he truly got what they were laughing at.

“I know the feeling, son,” the older bassist said once they’d all Calmed down again. “Imagine how I felt when I got told all this yesterday.”

“And me, for that matter,” Bobby agreed. “I gave up drinking–even though it damn near killed me–when I found out I was pregnant with Zach, and I _still_ wanna dive into a bottle again over it!”

Franco and Janus both looked confused by his statement, which made him chuckle.

“Let’s just say I was a raging alcoholic, and prolly worse than Nikki,” he told them. “When I just put the bottle down ’cuz I didn’t wanna hurt my unborn kit, I wound up going into delirium tremens that went so far as a couple seizures.”

Neither of them could help a sympathetic wince.

“At least I’ma medic and have my own doctor on speed dial,” Nikki said, wrapping an arm around him. “Not to mention know a couple Elves.”

“Seriously, since they were able to protect Zach while you and Stonie were getting me through that shit,” the younger bassist told them.

Everyone dug into their breakfast once all the plates’d been passed out, as well as coffee mugs to the adults. The baby ate off his big brother’s plate, reaching out and snagging handfuls of Eggs and letting him feed him small bites of sausage. His mama made sure he’d a bottle of milk warmed up to wash it all down with, but there was no real reason to give him his own plate.

Once they were done and the mated couple started the cleanup, Lee couldn’t help but ask his dad what he planned to do about this particular revelation. It was certainly quite the upheaval for anyone to be put through, but with Mötley and their problems, he was curious. The fact that Poison’d been going through similar problems recently that were only just Beginning to get fixed only added to that Curiosity. He didn’t wanna see his dad _or_ stepdad have to give up something they’d worked so hard on for over a decade each, if they didn’t have to.

Nikki told him that he’d obviously have to tell his band and manager, as would the younger bassist since they were a package deal. But before they started spreading the news, he was kinda entertaining the notion of taking a trip to Rosalia to see it for himself. He’d never been to the tiny Kingdom, as far as he knew–not even driving through on a tour to get to various parts of Italy and Austria, even Switzerland and Slovenia.

Hearing that made Franco’s eyes positively light up, ’cuz even if his son didn’t take his Birth right after all, at least he was showing _some_ interest. That certainly boded well for convincing him to actually do so later on, but they’d still have to see exactly what happened. After all, he might not be able to handle something as stupid as the Weather, which’d no doubt make him wanna remain here in California. Or maybe Rosalia’s Weather’d be more tolerable for him, especially with that asthma he’d mentioned, once he got used to the thinner Air. Taking a trip to the tiny Kingdom was certainly the best way to find out, and the King couldn’t help but be excited about the prospect.

Since he didn’t particularly care what Doug and the rest of the guys thought at the moment, the older bassist talked Rikki into transferring the group to Franco’s home. The Elf’d cocked a brow at him curiously, a bit surprised that he was even entertaining the notion of claiming his Birth right. After all, he claimed to hate having more Responsibility than necessary, and doing such a thing’d certainly pile Responsibility all over him.

Nikki chuckled as he explained that he and the younger bassist’d been thinking of taking a vacation lately, and if going to Rosalia for such a thing helped him make his choice, it couldn’t be an altogether bad thing. At least they’d get away from all the stress they’d been under lately, if only for a short while, and be able to take a bit of a breather.

Knowing his surrogate son’d thought about this quite a bit, he was agreeable to the plan, but he wasn’t leaving them there alone. Even though he could pop in, grab them, and pop back out in the blink of an eye, he didn’t trust these two in the slightest yet. Then again, he was Elvin Royalty–his mother was the Great Guardian of the Elves, after all–and he knew all about political intrigue and Royal assassinations. Besides, in being a Prince in his own right, he could certainly help with breaking certain things down in ways that they’d get better and giving advice that even Janus couldn’t.

“Hey, that’s fair enough,” the older bassist agreed. “’Cuz let’s be honest–if I were to ever wind up Crowned King and needed somebody to run my country ’cuz I was sick or otherwise incapacitated, you’d be my first pick.”

“And gladly I’d do it, kitten,” Rikki chuckled. “’Twould be an easy matter for me, just like commanding a battalion again.”

“Well, legion, as they’re called in your World more often than not,” he laughed.

“You’ve everything like your meds, right?” the Elf asked.

“Got all that, and if I _do_ need anything else, I doubt Sirena’d mind bringing it to me,” Nikki answered, nodding.

“All you’ve to do is ask,” said female Elf giggled, walking into the room with Zach since she’d taken him for a diaper change.

“It’s nice to see that my son’s people he can count on,” Franco chuckled, smiling at his younger grandson.

“Not that we’re trying to rub anything in your face–ya did whatcha had to, after all–but we _were_ the ones to help his grandparents raise him,” her husband said. “His grandparents took care of his Neko heritage, we took care of the D’Artemis half before he wound up crossing and _really_ getting himself in trouble.”

“’Twas teamwork betwixt all of us that brought him up into at least a halfway decent man,” Sirena agreed with an adoring smile. “We know you’d have helped with both sides of his lineage, were ya able to, but we managed well enough.”

“And that’s the one thing I regret about sending his mother away like I did the most,” the King sighed. “I missed out on so much with him as a result.”

“Hey, the sad Truth of the matter’s that I know how ya feel,” Nikki told him.

He simply cocked a brow at him curiously as much as Janus did.

“Remember how I said I got drafted into the Vietnam War?” the older bassist asked.

“Yeah, we remember,” his dad answered with a nod.

“Lee’d just turned four a couple months before I got that draft letter,” he explained. “After that, I was gone till 1970–and after that, I didn’t even remember that I’d left behind a wife and son due to the head injury.”

“I was twenty-seven before we were reunited a few Years ago, and only ’cuz Rikki recognized his signature on something and told me to go talk to him about it,” Lee added.

“Not a pleasant thing to have in common with my own son, but at least I don’t really have to explain it to him,” Franco chuckled.

Assured that everyone was ready to go, the aforementioned Elf got them all gathered up in the formal living room where the majority of the discussion’d taken place yesterday. Sirena Intended to follow with their bags, even though he could damn well get everyone and everything on his own. Once they were safely in Rosalia, she’d Return to Thousand Oaks so she could keep a Silent watch over the house and make sure nobody so much as tried to break in.

Nikki took a deep breath as he wrapped his arms around his mate, Bobby snuggling their son against his slightly-swollen chest. His surrogate father wrapped his arms around his actual father and the Royal adviser, pulling them against his sides as his older son grabbed him from behind. The only other one who really knew what a doozy this could be was the younger bassist, and it wasn’t exactly pretty.

Everyone in the group swore they saw Galaxies swirling before their eyes, the Air was sucked from their lungs, and Cotton was stuffed in their ears as Rikki took them into the transference. It felt like it was hours, maybe even Days before they arrived at their destination, not a scant few seconds between Beginning and End. Such a magickal overload was why it was oft a tummy-twister for those who weren’t used to Traveling in such a way, especially if they weren’t at least part-Fae or -Elvin. That was why it wasn’t a surprise when everybody with the exception of the older bassist dropped to their knees to retch as soon as they’d arrived.

It took a few moments for the others to settle down, Sirena appearing with their bags moments after their arrival. Bobby couldn’t help a miserable _mraw_ any more than Zach could help an equally miserable _mrew,_ his shirt covered in his baby’s breakfast from where he’d unloaded on him. Such was just part of parenting, though, and he knew they’d all be able to get cleaned up in just a short while, so he didn’t let it bother him. Only once everybody’d managed to settle their stomachs enough to breathe fairly normally did they look up, most getting a pleasant surprise.


	7. Six

Nikki and his small family looked up after catching their breath and settling their stomachs, only to have their breath taken away again. Sure, the Castle they were in front of maybe wasn’t as grand as one’d imagine a Castle to be, but it was still a Castle, all the same. It certainly looked like it could be from Medieval Times, meaning there was no doubt a shit-ton of history associated with it. Part of that history might even include a few Ghosts roaming its halls, and he’d know once he got inside since he was a bit of a Death Witch.

Franco couldn’t help a soft chuckle as he pushed himself up to his feet, easily feeling their Awe as much as reading it in their expressions. The most adorable of the latter was prolly that of his younger grandson, who gaped up at the place he called home with a certain childlike Wonder in his eyes. Only a parent could truly appreciate that, and since he’d missed that with his own son, he’d get it now by watching Zach experience it.

The soft chuckle caught their attention, making them look at him as he started up to the massive front doors with a gesture to follow him. Even Janus let out a soft chuckle as he followed his friend and boss, the Elves using their magick to bring everyone’s bags in at once. Such a feat certainly made things easier, especially considering all the stairs they’d otherwise have to be dragged up.

Just inside the front doors–which were manned by armed guards–was what appeared to be a long hallway, rather than a foyer like in their home. It led in two different Directions, although none of them could say what was in those Directions, in terms of what kinda rooms were there. There were what looked to be Medieval tapestries sporting what he’d call a family crest hung from the walls, and there seemed to be Eagles in all the artwork. Aside from that particular Bird of prey, the other Animal that was most prominent in the artwork was clearly the Siberian Tiger. Damn near every Color of one that’d ever been seen on the Planet was depicted, from the typical rusty-brown to rare black.

_“Benvenuti al Palazzo di Rosalia,”_ the King said, a grin on his face as he turned so his back faced the balcony at the top of the curved double staircase, arms spread wide.

_“Decisamente bellissimo, lo darò che,”_ Nikki chuckled, much to the guards’ surprise.

“What–didn’t think my son’d already know our language?” he asked, biting back laughter at their expressions, which he clearly saw over said son’s shoulder.

They weren’t quite sure how to answer that without potentially getting themselves in trouble.

“Let’s just say the bastard I thought was my father till yesterday forbade my learning English,” the Crown Prince told them. “Swore he’d make sure my grandparents never found my body, if my mother dared teach it to me.”

Even Franco’s eyes widened at that revelation.

“Only after he abandoned us when I was four was I allowed to learn any other language, including English–and even then, it wasn’t so much allowed as I just did it,” he chuckled.

“I’ll ask about that some other Time, _figlio,”_ the King said. “Now’s neither the Time, nor place for such an undoubtedly intimate conversation.”

“Place, definitely–not sure there’ll _ever_ be a right _Time_ for it, though,” Nikki warned as he made to follow him.

First on the agenda was getting them settled in guest quarters in the North wing of the Castle, which was were the second actual tower was. The other full tower was part of the South wing, which was where the King and his closest family–the Queen, any infant heirs, etc.–resided alongside a select few like Janus. It was within the outer walls that surrounded the inner courtyard and the trio of much smaller guard towers that any other Palace staff who resided here lived.

The older bassist wasn’t exactly surprised to find that the bedrooms they were led to were decorated in a more Renaissance, maybe Rococo theme. Considering that this place’d no doubt been built during the original King’s reign, it wasn’t that far a stretch for the Imagination to see a lotta the Renaissance. With Franco having taken over toward the End of that Time period and the French Rococo period spanning roughly a quarter-Century from the early-to-mid-eighteenth Century, it was no surprise that he’d likely done what woulda been called updating back then.

Bobby was pleasantly surprised to find that the Castle’d been updated far more than one’d think at first glance. During some point in its lengthy history, somebody–likely his father-in-law–had made the decision to have electricity and running Water installed. At least that meant they didn’t have to use Candles and oil lamps, as well as chamber pots, unless they absolutely wanted to.

Once they’d picked the rooms they Intended to stay in, Lee knowing he’d get to stay for only a couple Days before he’d to leave again, the King led them back to where they’d entered. From there, he led them to the North wing, which also housed his personal library and study, not just his private chambers. As they followed behind him, they took note of the scents of some kinda meat, fruits and vegetables, and freshly-baked bread wafting through the South wing. No doubt that meant said wing housed the kitchen and dining room alongside the guest suites, which was always a good thing to know, considering the Crown Prince’s Health.

“I could definitely enjoy living here,” the younger bassist chuckled as they settled in the library shortly thereafter.

“Personally, I’m not as big on the Rococo parts of the _décor_ as the Renaissance parts, but I can’t say I disagree,” Nikki laughed.

“I’m sure it’s still a far cry from how ya grew up, _figlio,”_ his dad said.

“Well, yeah–I mean, I grew up in a one-room log cabin, not a freakin’ Castle!” he told him with another laugh.

“Oh, Gods–the horrors,” Bobby playfully mocked him, grinning.

“Ya don’t even know the half of it, love,” the older bassist said. “If I heard one more, _Oh, God_ – _right there, Tom!_ by the Time I was ten, I mighta slaughtered my grandparents.”

Nobody in the room was immune to a bout of raucous laughter as he mocked his late grama’s choice words.

“Course, scaring the living shit outta them the first Time I ran off and hid ’cuz I got sick of it was downright priceless,” Nikki snickered.

“Do I even wanna know, Dad?” his older son asked.

“They didn’t know where I was and damn near burnt down the cabin and barn both, if it meant finding me,” he chuckled. “And the whole Time, I was burrowed down into the hay in my kitten form with our Dog, Banjo, curled up around me.”

Everybody laughed again, but they couldn’t help letting out a collective _awww_.

“Personally, I find the view from outside upstairs the best part of this place,” Franco admitted.

“Is it really that good?” the younger bassist asked.

“One can see for miles across mostly City, but a lotta Mountainous and farmland, too,” he answered. “Then again, our Capital–which’s where we currently are–was meant to look picturesque.”

“What’s the Capital’s name, though?” Lee asked curiously.

_“Bolzano,”_ the King answered, his accent making it come out sounding more like _Baltz-ah-no_.

While it was certainly a stronger accent than they were used to, they could understand it well enough that they didn’t need a translator or to switch to Italian. Course, Nikki was remembering his early kittenhood right after Rikki’d originally flashed English to him so he’d know it instantly. His own accent’d been just as heavy and thick as his dad’s, but it’d faded quite a bit over the last almost hundred and forty Years.

Soon enough, there was a tentative knock at the door, to which Franco responded with an Italian bid to enter. The group was both surprised and not to see a maid dressed in more of a nineteenth-Century fashion than not step into the doorway and drop into a quick curtsy. Folding her hands at her waist, she informed them that lunch was being served, if anyone was hungry enough to eat.

Baby Zach’s lil belly growled as if responding to the lone word she Ended her phrase with, even though it really hadn’t been that long since they’d breakfast. Then again, considering that all but the older bassist and the Elves’d seen a Return appearance of said breakfast, they weren’t surprised by that. It was at the King’s insistence that they head to the dining room, said Neko rising from the seat he’d claimed to start heading that way. Everyone else shrugged slightly as they got up to follow him, all of them sure it’d take a short while to memorize which way to go so they’d be able to find whatever room they wanted without making a wrong turn.

In the dining room on one of the lower levels of the South wing, Lee and Bobby chuckled at the happy squeal the baby let out. Already, his lil chin was covered in drool from the mouth-watering scents that greeted them as he reached for the lavishly-set table. Once again, none of them were surprised ’cuz even the adults were having a hard Time not drooling on themselves. Franco chuckled as he settled at the head of the table, his son and son-in-law settling to his right while his grandsons and Royal adviser settled to his left.

“It’d damn well take me a while to get used to having a live-in chef,” Nikki said as he scooted his chair in. “Then again, I’ve been cooking for myself since I was barely older than Zach.”

“Seriously, Dad?” his older son asked, looking surprised.

“Trust me, if I didn’t cook–even though I was a three-Year-old using a Wood stove–my baby sister and I woulda starved more often than we wouldn’t have,” he grumbled.

“Yeesh,” the younger musician winced, getting his baby brother settled in his lap.

“Ya know, I don’t care if too many still have that old-World mindset of a woman being barefoot, pregnant, and in the kitchen or not, but your mother shoulda been cooking instead of making you do it,” Bobby told him.

“It was better to let a three-Year-old literally play with Fire than for her to do it,” Nikki said. “At least I was sober, not trying to do it with enough alcohol and opium to kill three Horses in my veins.”

The King gaped in shock as he registered his words. “She _what!?”_

“Whyddaya think I don’t have anything nice to say about my mother?” he countered. _“Her_ alcoholism and drug addictions damn near got me killed in various ways on more than one occasion.”

Even the younger bassist noticed how he reached up to rub his right cheek as if it was sore. “Love, what’d she do to ya?”

Shooting him a look outta the corner of his eye, he sighed heavily. “Let’s just say it took over a decade for _Nonna_ to convince me to go anywhere near a Wood stove after that bitch shoved me face-first into a piping-hot one at the age of four.”

The entire small group gasped in pure shock, their eyes widening to the size of the plates before them.

“And even now, I don’t really like being around red-hot Metal, even though I wouldn’t necessarily say I’ve a phobia to it or anything like that,” Nikki continued.

Clearly, the older bassist’d more than earned his old call sign of _Vault,_ and prolly long before he’d ever enlisted in the Corps. Not even his own band members, let alone those that made up Poison and Mr. Big, had ever known exactly what his kittenhood was like. The most they’d ever known was that he’d things a lot harder than they could prolly imagine, and that’d been the most detail he’d ever gone into with them. Only his grandparents’d truly known before then, ’cuz he doubted his mother woulda remembered what all she’d done or allowed to be done to him–if he _hadn’t_ shot her right between the eyes in 1875.

Still, everyone could tell that dropping the topic was best since it obviously bothered him–even now–and Janus was quick to Change the subject. He started talking about how–while a lotta things were done more like one’d expect in Modern Times–a lot was still done as it was decades, Centuries, and likely even Millennia ago.

Water was either drawn from Wells by hand, or pumped with old-fashioned hand pumps that’d started being used around the turn of the twentieth Century. Electricity was obviously available, but many still preferred the use of Candles and oil lamps over anything else. There was certainly central Air and gas heat, but Wood-burning stoves and fireplaces were still just as common as they ever were. And while many enjoyed the use of indoor plumbing, some of the oldest Rosalians still liked their old Tin tubs that’d to be dragged outside and dumped after they were used.

Nikki certainly liked the idea of being able to choose which he wanted to use, rather than being relegated to the old ways just ’cuz nothing’d been updated. Considering the Time period he’d grown up in, he actually preferred many of the old ways, although he knew his mate and sons’d need some Time to adjust. With all that and then some considered, though, once he got to know even more about Rosalia and how it was run, he might just take his Birth right while he’d the chance.


	8. Seven

Even though Lee was forced to leave three Days later so he could rejoin his tour in Time, the rest of the small family stayed for another almost three weeks. They were actually happy at _Palazzo di Rosalia,_ if only ’cuz they weren’t being constantly badgered by their bands and management. It was nice to just say _Fuck it_ and get away from it all, and if they weren’t gonna go live on a sailboat, a Castle was just as good a place as any.

Bobby was more than a bit surprised at how friendly the townspeople who resided in the City below were right off the bat. It wasn’t till the Morn after they’d arrived in the small Kingdom–or more aptly, that Eve since it was in the same Time zone as Italy, which was nine hours ahead of Los Angeles–that they started exploring the Capital. Granted, they weren’t used to getting perks like a business owner de-iding to stay open late for a last-minute customer, just ’cuz they recognized one of their group on sight, even though they were both celebrities. Still, that didn’t stop said business owners from keeping their doors open a bit later for them when they saw and recognized Franco.

Many of the townspeople actually recognized the bassists and Lee, as well, ’cuz they were fans of all three of their bands. It was certainly a pleasant surprise for them not to actually ask for pictures and autographs, which happened almost everywhere they went. That made the King laugh and remind them that one didn’t behave like rabid Animals when Royalty was involved, and they were Royalty now.

That part was certainly gonna take more than even three weeks to wrap their heads around, but they were slowing coming to grips with it. But no matter how much they did or didn’t wanna, they’d a Life out in Southern California they’d to get back to, and the older Neko’d a country to run. Nikki still told his dad to just get Rikki to come get him and whisk him away, if ever he needed somewhere else to clear his head for a bit. After all, he wasn’t the only one to miss out on so much in decades past–the older bassist’d missed out on a lot, too.

“I won’t say that I’m not gonna take ya up on that, _figlio,_ but I think you’ve seen that it might be a bit hard to actually manage,” Franco chuckled.

“And I get that,” he told him. “But I’ve thought my entire Life that my dad was someone else, and was under the impression that he died the same Year I Changed my name.”

“Doubtless, now that you’ve been pleasantly corrected, ya don’t wanna give that up, no matter _what_ your Birth right is,” the King said, nodding.

“Damn fuckin’ straight on that,” Nikki laughed.

“Nikki’s definitely got the Italian–or more aptly, Rosalian–heritage of valuing his family above all else,” his mate told him. “If he’d be willing to damn near die for a man he _wasn’t_ related to over twenty Years ago, imagine what he’d be willing to do for us.”

“I’m not sure I wanna,” he admitted. “Then again, he’s certainly like no other member of a Royal ruling family that I’ve ever met.”

“’Cuz ya ain’t ever met one that’s also a rock star and former Marine,” the older bassist chuckled.

It didn’t take long for them to exchange their goodbyes, Zach pouting at the Thought of having to leave such a pretty place. Franco laughed and told him he’d get to come back again, even if it took a while for everyone to adjust schedules so they could manage it. The lil tyke perked right up at that Thought, which gave him something to look forward to while he was back in California.

Rikki made sure none of them were gonna lose their balance and fall once they arrived, his wife popping in for their few bags. With another wave from the small family and a regal nod from him that the King Returned, he took them into the transference and back home. So much’d Changed in just three short weeks, and he’d be the first one–if neither of the bassists did first, that is–to admit that there were even more Changes to come. After all, he hadn’t officially decided whether to claim his Birth right or not, but it was still like a bit of a Cloud hanging over his head.

After appearing in their formal living room, Bobby just barely managing not to hurl and his kit unloading on him again, they started settling in for the Night. Since they’d left near the Beginning of rush hour, Rosalian Time, it was roughly seven in the Morn on the Pacific Coast. No doubt they’d be up till more like ten so they could wind down, take baths and showers, and finally head off to bed for the sleep they needed.

Tired from such an eventful month or so, none of the small family heard the phone ringing downstairs around ten the next Morn. Even baby Zach slept right through it, and he was normally a light enough sleeper that such a noise’d wake him up and make him start crying to wake his parents and catch their attention. Such a thing wasn’t uncommon immediately after Returning from some kinda trip, though, so those who knew where they’d been couldn’t really blame them.

However, this was the sixth Day in a row that Doug’d been trying to call so he could talk to Nikki, and he’d finally had enough. The cops weren’t listening since both bassists’d a penchant for just running off at random Times in the Past, despite no one answering the phone. It was Time he headed to their house to find out what the hell was going on, even if he found them slaughtered like Pigs.

Rikki could sense the manager’s Intent long before he ever arrived, considering that he stopped to pick up even Poison’s manager on his way. Instead of letting the two men wake the exhausted family, though, he simply opened the front door and waited in the shade of the stoop. The Day was already decently warm, considering it was Springtime in Southern California, and since the roofline extended over that small slab of concrete, he saw no better place to wait. Sure, the pergola that extended down half the walkway was great, but still not the same as an actual roof over his head.

“You’re sure they’re not gonna try to kill us or anything?”

The Elf simply remained where he was, arms crossed over his chest and legs crossed at the ankle, as he listened to Doug’s response.

“Somebody’s gotta find out why they’re not answering,” he said, sounding both concerned and irritated.

“Well, I know they’ve a penchant for running off sometimes,” Howie agreed. “But do ya really think they’re in trouble or something?”

“I dunno what’s going on, and that’s the part that worries me,” the second manager told him. “Especially knowing they’ve a baby in the house, too.”

“No need to worry about any of them.”

Startled from their conversation as they approached, they gasped at seeing a figure hiding in the shade.

“Jesus Christ–Rikki, is that you?” Doug asked, squinting slightly.

“Yea, moron,” he dead-panned with a snort. “Just ’cuz I _can_ look like Nikki doesn’t mean I’m him.”

“I’m not even gonna ask about that,” his companion said uncertainly.

“Seriously, since we’re here about Nikki and Bobby,” he agreed.

“They’re fine–Zach is, too, before ya ask,” Rikki told them, straightening from where he’d been leaning against the stacked-Stone exterior so he wouldn’t smack his head on the porch Light.

“Then why the hell aren’t they answering the phone?” Howie demanded, now starting to get pissed.

“They’ve been outta the country–got sick of all the stress and went on an impromptu vacation before they lost their shit,” the Elf told them. At least that much really _was_ true to a certain extent.

“And this Morn?” the second manager asked, crossing his arms.

“They got back around seven yesterday Morn and were up till around ten to wind down,” he answered. “They’ve gotten used to running on Italian Time the past couple weeks, so they need to readjust.”

Both managers seemed to be a bit skeptical of his words, and all he could do was shrug in response since he wasn’t lying, even if he wasn’t telling the full Truth. He knew damn good and well that–even what appeared to be dead to the World–if Nikki felt eyes on him while asleep, he’d snap awake like he’d just been pretending. And when that happened, he usually wound up pulling his pistol either outta his nightstand or out from under his pillow–which wasn’t good for whoever was on the business End, considering he could sight in so quick, it almost seemed like he didn’t sight in at all.

In the middle of them trying to get him to reveal where the Sixx family’d jetted off to so suddenly, Rikki simply held up a hand and turned toward the front door. The moment he opened it to head inside, they could hear the baby upstairs crying softly–likely too softly for his parents to hear in the master suite–which was what’d caught his attention.

Never one to let a baby’s needs go unattended–not after fathering and raising a dozen Elvlings of his own so far–he headed for the stairs. Even though he knew Doug and Howie followed him into the house, he also knew they were well aware of the older bassist’s rules. Ya don’t go any further than the foyer–or rather, what was supposed to be such–without being granted explicit permission. It might seem a bit strict, but he ran his house almost like a barracks, and demanded his rules be respected.

Upstairs in the nursery, the baby in question looked up with a sniffle when he heard soft movements and his face lit up. He loved his Grampa Rikki, as proven by how he reached up to him with a whine as he bent over the rail of his crib to pick him up. Maybe he didn’t love him as much as he loved his parents and brothers, but he was just a baby–and babies were oft fickle like that when they wanted to be. Still, he was just glad that _someone_ was responding to him since Mama and Daddy weren’t for whatever reason this Morn. His tushie was getting itchy, and his belly was starting to grumble for food–which wouldn’t be fixed without someone answering him.

_“Chu-wee!”_ Rikki said, fanning his poor nose as he pretended that it’d been completely busted. “What’s chu mama been feeding chu, boy?”

The baby giggled as he was laid on his changing table.

“I think I’ma have to have a talk wiff dat mama of yours,” he chuckled as he started working on getting him cleaned up. “There’s gosta be _someting_ better to feed chu dat won’t make chu ’tink so bad!”

“Whas dat ’bout mah babeh ’tinkin’?”

Glancing over at the nursery doorway, the Elf saw Bobby rubbing his eyes. “Well, good Morn to you, too, kit.”

“Morn,” he yawned, blinking as his eyes adjusted. “Now, what were we talkin’ ’bout?”

“Ah, Zach just woke up with a dirty diaper while I was downstairs fending the managers off,” Rikki answered, hands still moving on autopilot.

“Ya haven’t gotta change him Rikki,” the younger bassist said.

“Already in the middle of it, or I’d letcha take over–and ya know I’m no dummy in the nursery,” he chuckled.

“Or the bedroom to make what goes _in_ the nursery,” Bobby snickered.

“That, too,” the Elf agreed with a laugh.

“So, what was that about managers?” he asked, moving to get his son some fresh clothes instead while his surrogate father-in-law was finishing up.

“Apparently they’ve been trying to call–for how long, I dunno, ’cuz I heard Zach before I could ask,” Rikki explained. “So, Doug decided to come over to check on y’all apparently, and he stopped to get Howie on his way over.”

“Aw, great,” the younger bassist sighed. “Ya didn’t tell–”

“Not a word, kit.” He shook his head as he let him take over to get the baby dressed. “They don’t need to know till Nikki’s ready for ’em to, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Thank the Gods, or Nikki’d lose his shit,” Bobby sighed.

Nodding his agreement, the Elf told him that he was heading back downstairs to get coffee going, not to mention start on breakfast. The older bassist was pretty much worthless on less than six hours of sleep, and if he knew him even half as well as he thought he did, he wouldn’t be taking his meds today, either. He normally took them around eight in the Morn, and with it already pushing ten-thirty, he’d prolly skip today so he could stay on his normal schedule.

Downstairs, Doug and Howie’d decided to simply take a seat in the formal living room, which they both knew Nikki was perfectly fine with. His bigger rule was that visitors not go anywhere else in the house without permission, but he was fine with any visitors taking a seat in this room, if they didn’t wanna stand.

The pair of men looked up at Rikki as he passed, and he simply told them he was leaving the decision up to the younger bassist since his mate didn’t appear to be up yet. Both nodded in response as he continued on to the kitchen, where he kept his word about starting coffee before anything else. He was at least kind enough to use his magick to speed up the process so that not only was it done by the Time the sleepy mama got downstairs a couple minutes later, but so he could take them a cup of it since they almost always partook when they visited.

“Hey, guys,” Bobby yawned, his son snuggled against his chest as he got to the bottom of the stairs.

“Thank God you’re still alive,” his own manager sighed, Doug nodding his agreement.

“Yeah, we’re all still alive,” he chuckled. “Nikki’s still working on the awake part, butcha know how he is on less than six hours of sleep–especially without his meds.”

“Is he even gonna take them today?” Howie asked.

“Prolly not since it’s–” The younger bassist paused to glance at the clock mounted in the niche over the mantel. “–pushing ten-thirty.”

“Ah–yeah, that’s true,” his mate’s manager agreed. “Doesn’t he normally take them around eight, if he’s gonna?”

“Usually edging toward _seven_ -thirty, but yeah–no more than a few minutes later than eight, if he can help it,” Bobby answered. “It throws off his schedule too much, if he takes them even an hour late.”

“I imagine it makes him stay up an hour later than he should, at the least, and throws his whole system outta whack,” Howie said with a wince.

Nodding, he gestured for them to follow him when Zach whined and gently beat on his chest to get his attention. He’d to feed his baby–and soon–or he was gonna start getting cranky, which’d lead to a full-on temper tantrum. Considering the lack of sleep from not getting to bed till after ten yesterday, he wasn’t in the mood to put up with that, and he knew his mate wouldn’t be, either.

The pair of managers followed the younger bassist into the kitchen, where Rikki almost immediately started passing out mugs. Both nodded their thanks as Bobby settled with his son in his lap, chuckling as the boy started happily pigging out on the scrambled Eggs that was quickly put in front of him. He was always a Joy to be around, and anyone who saw him interact with his parents and vice versa, but said those men didn’t love him were idiots. It was almost like they could feel the Love rolling off all three of them in Waves–and the Truth was, that really _was_ the case.

Just a few minutes later, they heard a soft shuffling and an exhausted groan, which made them turn toward the kitchen doorway. Nikki’d finally managed to drag himself outta bed, and prolly only ’cuz he’d woken up enough to roll over and realized he was hungry. If he wasn’t actually hungry, he’d prolly woken up for that slight purpose and realized he was starting to get shaky, meaning he needed to eat within the next few minutes, or he’d be in trouble.

Even the Elf wasn’t immune to a chuckle as he flopped on the other bar stool, which’d been purposely left free since they’d known this was gonna happen. The older bassist didn’t even seem to notice their visitors as he cradled his head in his hand, no doubt fighting his narcolepsy so he could eat. Zach seemed to take care of that, though, by letting out a giggle as he smashed a handful of his Eggs against his daddy’s mouth. Said action caught his attention and made him snap awake, which made him glare at first till he realized what was going on. Grabbing the boy’s wrist gently, he smirked as he licked his lil hand clean, which resulted in peals of laughter ringing out.

“Looks like somebody’s trying to tell Daddy to wake up and eat,” Bobby laughed.

“Hey, at least I know the booger loves me,” he chuckled. He was careful not to actually laugh so it wouldn’t trigger his cataplexy.

“Of course he loves him daddy,” the younger bassist told him. “Too much to wanna see him go seepies and _really_ start shaking again.”

Zach whimpered, his bottom lip stuck out in an adorable pout, at the mere Thought.

“Definitely not the best of things to have happen,” Doug spoke up. “Not when we’ve another album to at least discuss, let alone record and release, instead of a funeral to plan.”

“Ugh, dude–seriously?” Nikki grumbled. “I’m not even totally awake, and today’s a _really_ bad Day to be wanting to talk business.”

“Hey, you’re the one who disappeared for three weeks without letting a Soul know where ya were going!” he fired back, his whole demeanor Changing.

“Didn’t ever stop to think that maybe with everything going on, even _I_ need a break sometimes, didja?” the older bassist snapped.

Even Howie could tell that things were about to get outta hand and grabbed the other manager’s shoulder. “He’s a point, Doug–we’ve been pushing _both_ bands almost to the brink of Insanity lately.”

“You know as well as I do that we’ve gotta keep the press rolling, so to speak, or they’ll get dropped as quick as they got signed, Howie,” the other manager growled.

“And while that’s true, even they’re only mortal,” he said sensibly. “All of them need more of a break than they’ve ever gotten from what they do, or they’re gonna wind up burnt-out. How much do ya think we’ll get outta them–if they _don’t_ wind up in a nut house, that is–if we let that happen to them?”

Doug looked like he was ready to argue like he was having it out with Doc again, which was when the lone Elf in the room finally spoke up.

“Tread lightly, child, lestcha make them decide to do something even more drastic than just take an impromptu vacation,” he warned in his soft, but authoritative manner that never failed to catch a being’s attention.

Nikki shot his surrogate father a look that screamed he’d better not mention what he’d found out three weeks ago, to which he responded with a barely-discernible nod. Utilizing the mental link he’d opened with him as a kitten, he told him that he hadn’t mentioned that news yet, and he still wasn’t gonna. It wasn’t his news to tell unless given permission, and he knew it–but he also knew how he operated almost better than he knew himself.

If he felt like he was backed into a corner, he could very well decide to disband and retire from the Music industry altogether. One thing that everybody’d always been mistaken about was how much the older bassist needed his band. He’d never needed the band as much as they’d needed him, and he was always being taken for granted unless he was almost on his Death bed.

Realizing just how much even Bobby’d no doubt started to feel backed into a corner, Doug finally sighed and said he’d lay off, but it wouldn’t last for long. He’d eventually have to start cracking the whip again unless they chose to disband, especially with Vince outta the picture. Otherwise, Elektra was gonna drop them, and it’d take forever to get them another deal and contract with another label. Granted, winding up with another label might be exactly what they needed, ’cuz even Howie knew how poorly they were being treated by their current one. That certainly wasn’t a Secret, if only ’cuz Mötley was extremely vocal about it to just about anybody who’d listen to them.

More than agreeable to that compromise, Nikki forced himself to stay awake long enough to eat what was on the plate set before him. He confirmed their suspicion of not taking his meds for the Day so he’d stay on schedule, which meant he was gonna be totally useless for another Day. When he woke up the next Day, he’d start getting himself straightened out, but till then, they knew he could do with the rest as much as his mate could. To that End, the managers left to let their bands know they were still alive, as well as let them recuperate from their supposed vacation a bit more.


	9. Eight

_February, 2001_

_Thousand Oaks, California_

After finding out that he was the Crown Prince to his own country, Nikki managed to keep the news Secret for Years. Only his family knew the Truth, ’cuz he didn’t even trust now-former manager Doug to keep his mouth shut instead of leaking it to the press. He didn’t even trust Mötley Crüe’s new manager, Allen Kovac, who’d been with them for several Years now. Long enough that he’d been there through the Disaster that was having new front man John _Crab_ Corabi for only one album before bringing Vince back into the fold.

To top all that off, his band wasn’t the only one with not one, but two lineup Changes spanning from around the Time he found out to the current era. Poison replaced their lead guitarist CC DeVille not once, but twice in a span of about as many too-short Years. When their first choice, Richie Kotzen, failed to work out, they’d moved on to Blues Saraceno–only to have the album they’d been working on shelved for nearly five Years.

During these professionally tumultuous Years, Nikki and Bobby hadn’t let the stress cause rifts in their relationship. In fact, they’d wound up adding a few more kits–Storm, Zoe, and their newest addition, Maci–to the family, whether they were at home or on tour. Even Nikki’s son with what was technically his second ex-wife, Gunner, wound up brought into the fold before it was all over.

Upon Returning from his tour in support of Mötley’s most recent album, _New Tattoo,_ the older bassist’d finally made a decision he hadn’t wanted to. While he’d claimed his Birth right within a Year of finding out about it, he hadn’t wanted to uproot his family to move to Europe. Since he wasn’t an integral part of the Court at the Time, it was decided that that was an acceptable thing–as long as he Traveled to Rosalia for things like Franco’s birthday and certain other celebrations when he wasn’t on the road. If he _was_ on the road, but the younger bassist wasn’t, Bobby’d take the kids to those celebrations so they still got to see their heritage and spend Time with their grampa.

But now, all that’d either Changed or was in the process of Changing, and not just ’cuz Nikki wanted it to.

“Well, ya know–as much as I hate that this is our reason for Returning to Rosalia for the last Time aside from when we get home from a tour, we couldn’t have planned this better,” his mate sighed as they packed.

“You and me both, love,” he agreed with a nod. “Now sit your ass down for a bit and lemme do the hard work–you’re still not even outta your postpartum period.”

“Hey, ya know I’ma lot stronger than I look,” the younger bassist chuckled.

“Strong or weak, you’re gonna hurt yourself, if ya keep on,” Nikki gently admonished him as he made him park his ass on the couch in their den. “And I can’t be having Mama bedridden from hurting himself, leaving me to take care of a newborn _and_ chase after four other rugrats by myself!”

He couldn’t help laughing, knowing his husband and mate was more than capable of doing just that, if ever the need for it arose.

“Besides, I think Maci’s starting to get hungry again, anywhore,” the older bassist told him.

“Then give her here, ’cuz feeding and changing her’ll definitely keep me off my feet for a while,” Bobby said with a tender smile.

Nodding, he moved to the bassinet said newborn daughter was squirming in as she fussed irritably as she prepped for a total tantrum. They’d been doing some of the quieter packing while she was napping, even though he’d tried to get him to lay down for a nap of his own while he could. As was typical of him, though, the younger bassist’d refused to let his husband shoulder the entire burden by himself just so he could sleep.

With Maci in her mama’s arms, Nikki moved to take a break from packing as he heard their older kits starting to come downstairs. No doubt they’d finished up what lil packing was still left to be done in their rooms, Lee having come over to help his youngest able-bodied sibling since she’d only turned four a week after this newest kit’s Birth.

True to form, all the older kits were starting to get hungry, Zach and Gunner laughing as they playfully teased the oldest of their younger sisters. His oldest son followed with Zoe snuggled against his chest, almost looking like he was her father, rather than her older brother. He couldn’t help a chuckle at the sweet sight, still amazed by how he’d wound up with an even number of kits of each gender, even if one wasn’t with his mate. If anyone’d asked him back when he’d made it through the World and Korean Wars unscathed, he’d have said he didn’t want kits, if only to avoid passing on Health problems. But now that he was a dad, the older bassist couldn’t see living Life without his family by his side for it.

Lee jumped in to help their dad work on lunch for everybody when he saw his stepdad was busy with nursing baby Maci again. He knew they both had a lot on their plate, but no doubt it was a bit worse for the patriarch of his ever-growing family. With gaining all that he was at the moment came the loss of something just as near and dear to him, maybe even more so. Knowing that he hadn’t had what he’d just lost for nearly long enough, he knew he was holding back a lot for the sake of his kits, only opening up to his mate late at Night.

“How’re holding up, Dad?” he asked quietly.

“Prolly ’bout as well as I can for having just lost my own dad,” Nikki answered with a sigh.

“Yeah, I can kinda get that,” the younger musician told him. “I mean, ya grew up without him–thought another, abusive guy was your dad. Then ya suddenly get your real dad back, but only get–what, nine Years with him?”

“Not quite nine–that’s not till next month,” he managed to chuckle. “But close enough for gov’ment work, if ya ask me.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” Lee agreed.

“I think about the only thing that makes it easier–he lived a more or less average Lifetime for a Neko,” the older bassist continued. “I mean, Grampa Franco was born literally in 1700 at the turn of the eighteenth Century.”

“Means he was closing in on three hundred and one, if I remember his birthday right,” he agreed.

“He was, and since most Nekos live between three and four Centuries–well, he was on the shorter End of the scale, but still about average,” Nikki said.

“And I’m sure that’s ’bout the only reason you’re still willing to claim your Birth right,” the younger musician mused.

“Well, that and what else to I have of him besides the genes he passed on to me?” Nikki asked. “Sure, he left me a handful of things like heirloom jewelry, but to me, that’s not quite as significant as taking the very thing I was bred and born for. Besides, it stops Rosalia from being reabsorbed by Italy, or overtaken by another powerhouse like Austria.”

Nodding, he helped his dad get lunch plated, knowing that this particular Return to Rosalia was gonna be bittersweet. They were actually moving there this Time, rather than just taking a vacation as they’d done many Times since all this started back in 1992. But while they all enjoyed the picturesque, almost Faerie tale look of the small Kingdom’s Capital and the Lands immediately surrounding it, it just wouldn’t be the same without the second King in its entire history. In addition to that, they’d already made the choice to live on a nearby homestead, rather than within the Centuries-old Castle.

For everyone who’d ever known him, the loss of King Franco was just as tear-jerking as the loss of his father, King Serafino, back in 1699’d been for his subjects, family, and friends. They were sad to see him move on to the next plane of existence, but at the same Time, they knew it was for the best. New blood and new ways meant they could keep advancing, even if Nikki still stuck mostly to their roots as a means of Honoring his Ancestors. Of course, that meant there’d be a trying period as the people adjusted to their newest King’s rule, which wouldn’t truly start till after his Coronation sometime within the next Year, if all went according to plan.

But first things first, said newest King’d to get his family packed up and moved halfway across the Globe so they could settle in. He was grateful for the break Mötley was taking for the next few Years, but knew that things’d get a hair harder when Bobby left for his next tour that Summer. All he could do as they made all these Changes was hope for the best and be grateful that his remaining family continued to be by his side through it all when he needed them most.

“Hey there, everyone! I’m here today with the one, the only, the notorious Nikki Sixx, who’s a few announcements he wantsta make!”

Nikki waved to the camera that was focused on him, knowing full well there was a second one behind him that was focused on the guy conducting this interview. After talking it over at length with Royal adviser Janus and Rosalia’s Prime Minister, Andrea Gagliardi, he’d decided it was finally Time to go public with his Royal Ancestry. He hadn’t actually wanted to–and certainly not without talking it over with some of the highest-ranking folks in Rosalia after him–but he felt he’d no other choice. While Mötley wasn’t gonna be disbanding anytime soon, he was going through too many Changes that’d definitely affect the band, and he needed to be honest about it.

“So, I gotta ask since it’s not just me who’s curious, but the entire Planet at this point–what’s being announced today?” the interviewer, Kyle, asked. “I mean, I should hope it’s nothing like Mötley finally fell apart, and there’s not gonna be anymore albums or tours.”

“No, nothing like that’s on the table, as far as I know,” the bassist chuckled. “If it is, somebody else’s failed to keep me properly informed like they shoulda.”

“Well, that’s certainly a relief to hear,” he laughed.

“However, this _does_ affect Mötley–or rather, it’ll affect the band’s Future,” Nikki continued. “More than they’d ever be able to Dream of in this Lifetime.”

“Oh, boy–I sense a doozy,” the interviewer dead-panned.

“Let’s just say I hope you’ve a clean pair of drawers in your office–you’re gonna need ’em,” he said with his typical devilish smirk.

“Then lay it on us, ’cuz I’m sure the entire Planet’s on the edges of their seats right now,” Kyle told him.

“Let’s start with the backstory so this makes sense, then,” the bassist suggested with the promise to keep it as short and sweet as he could.

Nodding, he made a gesture for him to continue, not missing how he took a deep breath to obviously steel his nerves. After he’d shored up his Courage so he wouldn’t back out at the last minute, he turned his full attention to the man across from him and started as far back as he possibly could. He knew that a lotta folks’d call him crazy for much of what he said, but he was really as sane as it got for a man with brain damage as severe as his.

Kyle wasn’t surprised when he finally admitted that he wasn’t human–cutting his hair a few Years ago’d revealed the ears normally hidden in the black tresses. He’d been forced into admitting that the ears weren’t a prop when that happened, but he hadn’t said more than that. What he was was his own business, and he’d said it shouldn’t matter to anyone besides his family and closest friends.

What surprised him was when he admitted that he hadn’t just celebrated his forty-third birthday like the World thought, but rather his hundred and fiftieth. His jaw dropped as Nikki explained what Nekos were, what being one entailed, and how long an average Lifespan was for one. No one on the Planet woulda thought that one of the most famous bassists was a wereCat who didn’t turn into a slobbering, psychopathic, homicidal maniac every Full Moon. They certainly wouldn’t have expected what was about to come outta his mouth after giving him Time to absorb and process that much.

“Well, I’m sure you’ve a reason for explaining all that,” the interviewer finally said after regaining his wits.

“Yeah, I do–and this is the part that affects Mötley more than anything,” he answered, nodding.

“As if having a somewhat literal Cat-man as a member didn’t affect them,” Kyle chuckled, the smile curving his lips belying any ill Will.

“Well, of course it affected them–just not the same way, and not to anywhere near the extent,” the bassist laughed.

“Then lay it on us,” he told him. “I’m not sure ya can shock us much more than that.”

Smirking in that devilish way he was known for, Nikki snorted. “Well, when I said in the Past that my childhood wasn’t the greatest, I wasn’t lying–I just wasn’t telling the full Truth.”

The interviewer listened just as Intently as the rest of his crew.

“Yeah, I was abused as a kitten–horribly, in ways that not even Hollywood can cook up,” he admitted. “I’m not going into more detail, ’cuz trust me–if ya ever thought the drugs back in the Day made me violent, I’m worse when I’ve a flashback.”

“Then let’s steer clear of that part so nobody gets killed,” Kyle said.

“Part of that kittenhood–it was growing up under the impression that one guy was my dad when he really wasn’t,” the bassist revealed. “I didn’t find out till not quite nine Years ago who my dad really was, as well as what that entailed.”

“What all could it’ve entailed besides finally getting a chance to know your real, true dad?” he asked, sounding confused.

“I found out–well, the Truth is, there’s far more to me than has ever met the eye,” Nikki said. Taking another deep breath, he looked dead at the camera trained on him. “I found out that I was bred as my dad’s heir–I _was_ the Crown Prince of a tiny Alpine country called Rosalia.”


	10. Nine

“Come again? I’m almost a hundred percent sure I just misheard whatcha said, Nikki.”

The bassist couldn’t help laughing at the reaction of Kyle once he closed his mouth on his last statement. He’d pretty much been expecting that kinda reaction when he told anyone who hadn’t been at his house that Day that now felt like a Lifetime and a-half ago. It was pretty far-fetched to go from thinking one was just a fairly normal commoner–even if they were a bit of a Rock God like him–to realizing they were actually Royalty. Since he’d kept quiet about it ever since that very thing’d happened to him, he was almost certain he’d need to release official paperwork to actually prove it at some point.

“No, ya didn’t, Kyle,” he finally managed once he’d Calmed down from his laughing fit.

“How the fuck didja _not_ know about such a thing, even when ya were a kid?” Kyle asked, completely flabbergasted.

“’Cuz I was sent away while still in utero for my own safety,” the bassist answered matter-of-factly.

“Wait, seriously?” the interviewer asked, stunned.

“Rosalia’s only about the size of the Italian Province, Trentino,” Nikki answered. “They’re surrounded by Italy, Switzerland, and Austria, meaning they could easily be overtaken and absorbed by any of those powerhouses at any given Time.”

_“Oooh,_ ouch,” he winced, only one eye open as he looked at him. “And you’re seriously up for being the–well, Top Cat in a country like that?”

“Honestly, it’s not that much different than a part of my Past that I haven’t talked about publicly any more than I’ve talked about _this_ publicly,” the bassist told him.

Cocking a brow, Kyle pretty much abandoned the sheet of paper containing his questions he’d meant to ask him.

“I’m also a former Marine,” he admitted. “Enlisted at the tender age of nineteen in 1870, and I stayed in–making the rank of _Major General_ –till I was _Honorably Discharged_ in 1975.”

“Damn, no Wonder ya went buck-Wild in the eighties,” the interviewer mused.

Nikki couldn’t help another laugh as he admitted that the stifling strictness of the military–and one of the toughest branches, at that–was definitely part of the reason he’d been so crazy in the eighties. He also said that–while he couldn’t go into full detail ’cuz part of it was at least half-classified–that wasn’t the full reason. Part of it was also the drugs, which he’d never denied having been on, but also the brain damage he still suffered from to this Day.

Everyone in the room listened as he explained how, after his _Honorable Discharge,_ he’d held down a handful of various jobs just to cure boredom. After all, he made a helluva pension after essentially being forced to retire at the rank he’d made, so he wasn’t really worried about money. It was more so that he’d never been a lazy Cat, so he couldn’t stand just sitting around and twiddling his thumbs.

That led into how Mötley Crüe’d needed _him_ more than he’d ever needed _them,_ which included his paying for their debut album completely outta his own pocket. He even explained how he’d bought the guys the best of their chosen instruments that he dared for folks who–at least, at the Time–didn’t seem to appreciate the value of the things they had. Now that they’d long since gotten to know each other better, the bassist knew they were far more appreciative than they’d seemed, but back then, he’d all but drilled the same nineteenth-Century mindset into their heads. If there was one thing he refused to do, it was spend his money needlessly, and on those who didn’t deserve or appreciate it.

Kyle and his crew were still listening Intently as he continued by saying that–as Mötley and Poison were both going through their first lineup Change–he and his family’d gotten some unexpected visitors. That was the Day he’d met his Birth father for the first Time and been told what his Ancestry actually was, which was a far cry different than what he’d thought. He also explained how he’d chosen to keep quiet about it, not just for the safety of his family, but for the safety of an entire country’s worth of people, on top of it.

“I mean, sure–Mötley’s plenty of fans in Rosalia that we thought were Italian citizens at first,” Nikki said. “So do Poison, and another band I’ve actually got a closer relationship with than you’d think at first glance.”

“But once ya found out the Truth–well, ya didn’t want the media harassing your family at home, nor unsuspecting citizens who just happened to like your Music,” the interviewer said, nodding his Understanding.

“Exactly, ’cuz they didn’t deserve to have that happen to them,” he agreed.

“So, that begsta question–why’re ya opening up about it now?” Kyle asked curiously.

“I recently lost that formerly long-lost dad,” the bassist answered, a melancholy look crossing his face as he sighed.

_“Oooh,_ ouch,” he winced. “I’m sorry to hear that, man, especially when ya got so lil Time with him to Begin with, compared to how long you’ve really been alive.”

“Ah, don’t be sorry,” Nikki told him, managing a small smile. “Yeah, it hurts since we were robbed of so much Time together, but one thing keeps me from breaking down altogether.”

“And what’s that?” the interviewer asked.

“My dad woulda been three hundred and one, if he’d lived till at least his birthday this Year,” he answered. “While on the shorter End of the scale, he lived roughly the average Lifespan for a Neko. The fact that he coulda died a lot earlier–and from something like a disease that now has a cure, but didn’t even decades ago, if not assassination–makes it even easier to handle since I got at least a _lil_ Time with him when I coulda gotten none at all.”

“Yeah, I guess that _would_ make his Death a lil easier for ya,” Kyle agreed.

“But that’s what makes my inheriting my own country so bittersweet,” the bassist continued.

“I’m sure,” he said, nodding. “On one hand, you’re gaining more than most people can ever Dream of–on the other, ya lost so much more in order to gain those things.”

“My point exactly,” Nikki told him with a nod of his own.

“So, I’m guessing that’s whatcha meant by saying ya _were_ the Crown Prince?” the interviewer asked curiously.

The bassist nodded again as he said that, by all rights, he was technically already the newest King of Rosalia. But much like even the well-known British Monarchy, his Power hadn’t yet been bestowed upon him since he hadn’t yet had his Coronation. Only after said Coronation would he wield the same Power his father and grandfather before him’d wielded, but he Intended to do things a bit differently.

Nikki’s plan was to kinda combine the American and British gov’ments into one entity, if that made any sense. He fully Intended to utilize the Parliament already in place, but he Intended to establish a similar system of checks-and-balances. There were obviously other things he Intended to Change in comparison to how his literal forefathers did things, but that was the biggest. Beyond that, he refused to get into what all he planned to do, if only so that the plans wouldn’t get leaked–and into the wrong hands–before he was ready for them to be public Knowledge.

In the meantime, he was moving to the country that’d bred and borne him so he could get more integrated into their existing ways of Life. He wanted to know even more about his country and people, ’cuz while he’d learned a lot on various vacations over the last nine Years, there was still a lot he _didn’t_ know. Since he couldn’t legally do anything, he figured he might as well learn more about them in every way he possibly could.

“Moving to Rosalia permanently just seems like the best way to do that,” he said.

“Hey, I can’t say that I disagree with ya,” Kyle told him. “I mean, there’s bound to be cultural differences that’re gonna take a while to learn.”

“Well, not exactly, if I’m honest,” the bassist chuckled. “It’s kinda like a mix of Medieval and Civil War-era America.”

“Really?” the interviewer asked, now sounding Awed.

“Much of the architecture’s from the Renaissance period–which makes sense, given that the original King, my grandfather, was gifted the Province as his own Kingdom in the mid-sixteenth Century.”

“Okay, yeah–that _does_ make sense,” he agreed.

“A lotta the people still haul Water by hand–pump it with old-fashioned pumps, at best–use Candles and oil lamps instead of electricity, and chamber pots, Tin tubs, and outhouses instead of running Water and indoor plumbing,” Nikki told him. “But they live that way ’cuz they’re some of those older citizens who grew up in eras past, so that’s what they prefer, not ’cuz they’re forced to.”

_“Ahhhh,_ I gotcha.” He nodded as if approving such a way of Life, even if it wasn’t for him, as long as the people who lived it did so by choice.

“I’ve also spent quite a bit of Time with those who live within what we’d call City limits,” the bassist continued. “Even those who live in what folks in some regions of America’d call _the sticks.”_

“So, you’ve gotten to know their ways of Life at least a lil bit?” Kyle asked.

“Yeah, and they’re pretty similar to how I grew up, myself,” he answered, nodding.

“I guess that means there might not be quite as many cultural differences to adjust to, after all,” the interviewer chuckled.

Letting out a chuckle of his own, Nikki admitted that the biggest Change–aside from living in a different country within a different Time zone–was gonna be literally going back to his roots. The man across from him seemed surprised when he said that he’d no Wish to live within Castle walls, but instead preferred living on a homestead outside the City. He explained that in growing up a country boy, he’d only moved into the city when the Corps told him to, and that’s what he’d gotten used to. But now that he’d an ever-growing family to worry about, he’d been wanting to move somewhere that allowed for even more growth, whether that was by having more kittens or they started having kittens of their own.

It didn’t take long before Kyle’d managed to wrap up his interview that was chock full of surprises, and both of them rose to shake hands. The guy was more than grateful for his Time, now having a better idea of just what a busy man he really was between his heritage, career, and family. Doing such a thing wasn’t a problem for him, though, ’cuz like he’d pretty much told him, it was something that needed to be done so he could move forward.

After leaving the meeting place where they’d conducted the interview, the bassist just hoped that the World wouldn’t practically implode once they found out. His biggest worry and Fear was that the media was gonna have an even bigger heyday with this than anyone’d anticipated, thus targeting his kittens for more information. Course, said kittens–not even Lee–knew the full extent of what he was planning for after his Coronation, but he’d be a pretty shitty dad, if he didn’t keep their Health, safety, and Happiness in mind.

Once he arrived home, Nikki couldn’t help a grin as his boys gently tackled him, making sure to brace himself so he didn’t hit his head or hurt his back. He needed the Grounding that just being with his family never failed to bring him, ’cuz things were about to get crazy. The crazy was no doubt gonna start with his band mates–current _and_ former–calling him and starting off with _What the fuck!?_


	11. Ten

_April, 2001_

_Bolzano, Rosalia_

The Day of Nikki’s official Coronation as the newest and third King of Rosalia’d finally arrived, and he’d have been lying out his ass, if he said he wasn’t nervous. He was about to be handed so much more than just a Key to the City–he was about to be handed the Key to an entire freakin’ Kingdom. Not only that, but he was being handed a shit-ton of Power that–like his father and grandfather–could be used to rule a peaceful, prosperous country, or be used to force the people into bending to his whims as if he were a Dictator.

Bobby could tell that his husband and mate was nervous, even before he’d started busting out certain jewelry he rarely wore. In all Honesty, he was just as nervous–and for a very similar reason–but he was trying not to let his typical Anxiety show. Having anyone pass out at the very least could very well make today go so awry, he couldn’t even Begin to express how bad that’d be.

A knock at the door to their private suite told the anxious couple that the moment of Truth was at hand, and both took a deep breath to steady their nerves. Nikki called out an Italian bid to enter, glad that–as King–he’d the Power to decide how he wanted to dress, as long as it was within reason. The only reason he wasn’t allowed to do this stark-nekkid was due to other Royals–such as Queen Elizabeth II of Britain–being in attendance.

The younger bassist gladly took his husband’s elbow once it was offered to him, feeling much the same way a young Lady making her entrance into society prolly woulda felt in Centuries past. He forced himself to think more about how sharp said husband looked in his Dark purple dress shirt, which he’d left unbuttoned starting about halfway down his chest. Being unlike any other Royal on the Planet, he’d opted for jeans with strategic rips in just the right places over formal dress pants, and he’d certainly decided to forego shit like a waistcoat and ascot. Bobby was dressed much the same way, the main difference being that his dress shirt was a Dark red, which was another of Rosalia’s three Crown Colors, as it were.

Since the tiny Kingdom’d been Pagan ever since its inception in the mid-sixteenth Century, the Coronation was quite similar to that of the British Monarchy, but still had its differences. It wasn’t led by the most senior cleric of the official national church, but the High Priest of the strongest Coven, which was pretty much the same thing. The four highest-ranking political and law enforcement officals–including Prime Minister Gagliardi–were the parties who’d be called upon for recognition of their new Sovereign at the start of the ceremony.

“Good Gods, I can’t believe we’re finally at the start,” the younger bassist said nervously as he watched his husband be outfitted with Rosalia’s version of the _crimson surcoat_.

“Neither can I, love,” Nikki told him, somehow managing a chuckle.

“And I’m not gonna lie–part of me’s ready to get this over with,” he admitted.

“I don’t blame ya, ’cuz I feel the same way,” the older bassist said. “And I don’t care what gets said–if Lucia triesta presentcha as anything less than a Prince, I’m cutting her off and correcting that.”

“Your first abuse of Power, huh?” Bobby asked, unable to help a soft laugh.

“Damn straight, since we’re basically combining American and British gov’ments here,” he laughed. “If Queen Elizabeth II’s the Power to bestow titles, then damn it, I’ve the same Power.”

“Yea, certainly true, Your Majesty.”

Turning, they saw the Prime Minister’d come to make sure they were ready.

“If Your Majesty Wishes to bestow the title of Prince upon your mate, not just that of Consort, you’ve certainly the Power to do so,” Andi told them. “He’ll just never hold any title higher than that of _King Father_ since he’s obviously not female, and that title will only come upon your Death, if there’s no suitable heir at that Time.”

“Technically, my oldest son’s my Crown Prince,” Nikki chuckled. “But yeah, if he passes it up and lets my next oldest have it, Zach shouldn’t be Crowned till he’s of age, for sure.”

“He wouldn’t be as a minor, Your Majesty,” the Prime Minister assured them. “No country Crowns their next Monarch while they’re still a minor anymore.”

Nodding, the couple answered honestly when he asked if they were ready, saying that they were as ready as they’d ever be. After all, they’d no choice but to go through with the Coronation at this late date, considering the older bassist’d long since claimed his Birth right. Returning the nod, Andi prepared to lead the procession that’d precede their new King out to the Grove that was serving the same purpose as Westminster Abbey for today’s ceremony.

After the procession of dignitaries and what was essentially today’s clergy, Nikki took a deep breath as he awaited his cue. He knew that his husband would be following relatively close behind as one of the highest attendees, but he wouldn’t be anointed and Crowned till after homage was paid to him at the End of his part of the Coronation.

Entering the Grove that was essentially today’s Westminster Abbey, the older bassist called on his prior military training to keep his cool. He felt as nervous as he’d felt while awaiting Bobby at the Altar the Day they’d handfasted when their oldest was six months old. Today was just as Life-Changing for both of them, but in far more ways–and with a far greater significance–than merely handfasting. One couldn’t possibly expect them or any of the rest of their family to enter and sit through this ceremony without being nervous as all hell. At least none of the kids–who were sitting with Rikki, Sirena, and Tom at the front of the crowd–seemed to be acting up.

Settling on Rosalia’s version of a _Chair of Estate,_ Nikki took a deep breath that steeled his nerves and shored up his Courage. Part of him was glad that neither Mötley, nor Poison or even Mr. Big was allowed to actually attend the Coronation. No doubt they’d have caused some kinda ruckus, even if it was just an excited cheer, and none of them wanted or needed that. What they both wanted and needed was to get through this so they could move on as the official Royal ruling family of Rosalia, and just enjoy their Time together before Bobby’d to leave for tour.

Clearing his throat, the High Priest Began the Coronation ceremony by addressing the four highest-ranking officials once they’d taken their places at the Cardinal Directions around his chair.

“Sirs, I here present unto you Nikolas, your undoubted King. Wherefore all you who are come this Day to do your homage and service, are you willing to do the same?”

Each of the four men acclaimed the older bassist as their Monarch, and everyone knew it was now Time for what was comparable to an inauguration oath.

“Sir, is Your Majesty willing to take the Oath?” came the first question.

“I am willing,” Nikki answered, voice strong as he kept his gaze focused straight ahead of him. Holding a Centuries old _Book of Shadows_ in his hands, he awaited the next question.

“Will you solemnly promise and swear to Govern the People of Rosalia, and of your Possessions and the other Territories to any of them belonging or pertaining, according to their respective laws and customs?” the High Priest asked.

“I solemnly promise so to do,” he answered.

“Will you to your Power cause Law and Justice, in Mercy, to be executed in all your judgments?”

“I will,” the bassist answered, his gaze still straight ahead.

“Will you, to the utmost of your Power, maintain the Laws of the God and Goddess? Will you, to the utmost of your Power, maintain in Rosalia the Pagan Religion established by Law?” he asked. “Will you maintain and preserve inviolably the settlement of the Coven of Rosalia, and the doctrine, worship, Discipline, and gov’ment thereof, as by Law established in England? And will you preserve unto the Priests and Priestesses of Rosalia–and to the Covens there committed to their charge–all such rights and privileges as by Law do, or shall appertain to them or any of them?”

“I will,” Nikki answered without so much as a nod.

Since he hadn’t already done so, the next part was that he make his Ascension Declaration, which wasn’t exactly that hard. Considering that he was essentially declaring himself to be Eternally faithful to Paganism, there wasn’t really a way this part could go wrong. He’d been a faithful Pagan since before he was born, which’d been when Rikki and Sirena’d sensed his D’Artemis blood and started to work with him on Controlling his magick by simply projecting his Thoughts and feelings to them.

With the conclusion of his oath-taking, the older bassist was presented with the oldest surviving _Book of Shadows_ within Rosalia’s borders. It was equivalent to Queen Elizabeth II being presented with a King James bible at her own Coronation back in 1953. The words that accompanied the presentation were also a variant of that British Coronation nearly a half-Century ago, the words being _Here is Wisdom–this is the Royal Law. These are the lively Oracles of the God and Goddess_. Afterward, a Pagan variant of the _Holy Communion_ was celebrated by way of the High Priest performing a Consecration rite on a loaf of bread and Chalice of wine.

Once they were Consecrated, he tore off a chunk of the bread and laid it on the ground at his feet, then knelt down. Speaking quietly, he said a few words of offering as he made what was called a libation to the Faeries, Goddess, and other Elementals as he soaked it with part of the wine. His new King was expected to partake of his own portion, and then it was Time for their variant of the _Nicene Creed_.

Afterward, the High Priest Began his prayer in preparation for Nikki’s anointment as King of Rosalia as his valet stepped forward. Rising from the chair he’d been sitting in, he allowed the man to help him divest of the _crimson surcoat_ before he was helped into the anointing gown. If this weren’t such an integral part of the ceremony, he’d have balked at wearing such a garment, but he chose to keep his mouth shut so they could proceed. Once it was on him, he was led over to the Coronation Chair, which was very similar to the one used by British Monarchs.

Seated in this second chair, the older bassist was glad for his almost Infinite Patience as a Silver cloth was held over his head. He pretended not to be watching outta the corner of his eye by keeping his gaze focused on Bobby as the High Priest dipped his finger into a small Silver bowl. The contents of that bowl were made by himself for safety’s sake, but Consecrated by the man now using it.

Rather than using the symbol of the cross since this country was Primarily Pagan and its new Monarch definitely was, he took care to use the protective symbol of the Pentacle. He also took care to keep his touch light and gentle as he drew the symbol on him four Times, once on the back of each hand, right over his heart, and in the Center of his forehead. That done, the High Priest took a step back as he wiped off his finger, allowing him to rise from the Coronation Chair and kneel at the faldstool placed directly in front of it.

Nikki kept his head bowed, as did everyone else present for the ceremony, as he concluded the anointment portion with a quick, but solemn and heartfelt prayer. It was only once he’d uttered the final _So mote it be_ that any head lifted and he rose from his kneeling position to reclaim his seat in the Coronation Chair. The final part before the actual Crowning was the investing, but it’d to be done quite a bit differently than they were sure any other Royal present was expecting.

The first of the four men who’d surrounded him while he sat on the _Chair of Estate_ came forward with a pair of spurs. Similar to the design of those used in the Wild West, they were obviously Antique as he took them, their meaning holding that of Chivalry. It was Prime Minister Gagrialdi who stepped forward with a literal Sword, which was referred to as the _Sword of State_ like in Britain. Those were followed by the _Sword of Spiritual Justice_ from the High Priestess, as well as the _Sword of Temporal Justice_ and _Sword of Mercy_ from the next highest-ranking officials in Rosalia.

Being unable to tolerate the amount of heat that’d get trapped by all the robes due to his brain damage, the older bassist merely sat still as the next two approached. Each bore one of the _Armills,_ which were similar to those used in British Coronations in their meaning, but a bit different. While one was solid Gold like their British counterparts, the other was pure Silver, both together serving as a symbol of Duality. Gold was considered the Metal of the God, Silver the Metal of the Goddess, and such’d been the case for Centuries and even Millennia. Once both were fastened securely around his wrists, the pair of men stepped back for their High Priest to Begin his own part of the investment presentation with the Rosalian Crown Jewels.

First of the Crown Jewels was the Orb, and true to Pagan form, it was a hollow Silver sphere made entirely of Silver. The band that ran the circumference of its equator and across its top hemisphere was encrusted with Baltic Amber, Rubies, Emeralds, and Sapphires. Atop the Orb sat a single Amethyst, which was surmounted by a jeweled Pentacle whose Center bore another Emerald on one side, another Sapphire on the other. That was in place of the cross borne by the British Coronation Orb, and it was meant to symbolize the Pagan World, rather than the Christian one.

Upon being Returned to the Altar where it’d previously sat, Nikki was presented with a ring Intended to symbolize his _marriage_ to his country. In not wearing a handfasting band, but rather a handfasting necklace he’d handmade, his left ring finger was left open for it. Thankfully, the High Priest was just as clueless as all but his family to the limb bearing it being a Futuristic prosthetic.

The next piece was Rosalia’s version of the _Sovereign’s Scepter with Cross,_ this one bearing a Pentacle atop it instead. Like the British version, the bejeweled Silver rod was a token of the older bassist’s Power as the Head of State. Finally after that came the _Sovereign’s Scepter with Cardinal,_ the Bird atop it symbolizing Renewal and Regeneration. It was meant as an emblem of his Spiritual role within his country, just like the Dove-topped version used in Britain with their Monarchs.

With the presentation of the Crown Jewels, they were finally ready to move on to the actual Crowning, and needless to say, Nikki was finding his Patience to be wearing thin at this point. He knew pretty much everyone in the crowd was starting to get restless, too, as the High Priest lifted what’d once been his grandfather’s Crown from the High Altar before him.

“Oh, Horned God, the Crown of the faithful, Bless we beseech thee and sanctify this thy servant our King,” he said as he Began his Crowning prayer. “And as thou dost this Day set a Crown of pure Silver upon his head, so enrich his Royal heart with thine abundant Grace, and Crown him with all Princely virtues through the Queen Eternal, the Goddess, our Lady. So mote it be.”

“So mote it be,” the crowd of dignitaries and other Royalty echoed, even if they were actually of the Christian faith.

The next highest-ranking Coven member and Prime Minister were the pair who picked up the Crown, reverently carrying it over to the Coronation chair. Once they’d come to a full stop, the High Priest took it from them and turned to Nikki, who’d to bow his head slightly due to being so tall. Setting the Crown on his head, the man took a step back as he raised it again slightly, careful not to move so fast that he caused it to slide off.

“God and Goddess save the King,” the crowd cried in unison three Times.

The older bassist couldn’t help his ears laying back any more than his husband and kids could as trumpeters sounded a fanfare at the same Time church Bells rang out. Gun salutes were quick to join all the racket from nearby, and if he’d a free hand, he’d have rendered himself temporarily deaf. Only three Days of sleep’d let him get rid of the migraine he was bound to develop from it, and he Intended to have a word with whoever hadn’t written out this part of his Coronation. It wasn’t like he’d failed to mention being prone to migraines after his head injury, and he wanted to strangle someone.

“God and Goddess Crown you with a Crown of Glory and Righteousness, that having a right faith and manifold fruit of good works, you may obtain the Crown of an everlasting Kingdom by the gift of they whose Kingdom endureth forever,” the High Priest said once the racket’d died away.

“So mote it be,” the crowd said again.

Rising from the Coronation Chair, Nikki allowed himself to at last be borne into his Throne, several feelings washing over him. Even as the act of paying homage Began, he couldn’t help but wonder if his father and grandfather before him’d felt the same senses of Power and Pride at their own Coronations well over even two Centuries ago.

He barely paid attention as those four men who’d surrounded him this whole Time, as well as the High Priest, swore their fealty. As soon as they’d finished with their short speeches, the High Priestess took her turn before stepping back to join her masculine counterpart and husband. From there, it was various peers ranging from Dukes to Barons, Duchesses to Baronesses, who approached to pay homage and swear their fealty to him. Even though he’d Graced his kids with various titles that made them Dukes and Duchesses, as well as Princes and Princesses, they didn’t join for this part ’cuz only Lee knew what it meant to swear fealty. Besides, they’d individually pay their homage in just a few moments as members of the Royal family, Maci being the only one to be assisted by her oldest brother.

As soon as homage was paid to him, the process started back at the anointment, this Time with Bobby seated in the Coronation Chair. He could tell the poor thing was struggling not to literally shake in his boots at this point, and he couldn’t stop himself from being there for him in the only way he could. Utilizing their bond, he let him feed off his Spiritual and magickal Power like he always did when he needed to Calm down. Feeling him do just that almost made him break his almost cold demeanor with a slight smile, but he managed to keep his lips from even twitching.

Presented with what was known as the _Queen Consort’s Orb,_ the younger bassist could really feel the significance of this Day and its lengthy ceremony. Being Graced with the _Queen Consort’s Ring_ was a bit more embarrassing for him and the High Priest both due to the size of his fingers. Since he was male, they were almost too big for the ring to fit on, the only one that it made it past the first knuckle being his left pinky finger.

From there, he was invested with his own scepters, the _Queen Consort’s Scepter with Pentacle_ and the _Queen Consort’s Scepter with Starling_. The Starling was chosen for the Queen Consort’s scepter in Centuries past due to how its Dark plumage contrasted well with that of the Cardinal. It also seemed to be covered in Stars once its Winter plumage came in, and the Queen Consort was often thought of as a star in her own right. Those same qualities were no doubt applied to him now, even though he was technically the King Consort due to the obvious gender difference. Such things didn’t matter, though, as the act of Crowning him such was completed.

Once Bobby’d been enthroned next to his husband, the Communion that’d been interrupted for the Beginning of said husband’s anointment was picked up where they’d left off. Both knew that this insanely-long ceremony was almost over once they got to that point, and they couldn’t have been more grateful. It was after this was over that the closing proceedings’d Begin, said proceedings starting off with the older bassist rising from his new Throne.

Preceded by the bearers of the four Swords, Nikki headed for a smaller clearing that served the same purpose as St. Edward’s Chapel did within Westminster Abbey. His version of St. Edward’s Crown and all the other Crown Jewels were laid upon the High Altar, and he allowed the valet to help him switch out his version of the _crimson surcoat_ for the _violet surcoat_. As he’d done before, he wouldn’t allow the man to put any robes on him, even though it was normally done in a Coronation ceremony. He was already feeling the need for a cooling spell, if they didn’t finish up with a quickness, and the _Imperial Robe’d_ no doubt aggravate that further. It was then that he knelt down for the High Priest to settle his own version of the _Imperial State Crown_ on his head before taking back the _Sovereign’s Orb_ and _Sovereign’s Scepter with Pentacle_.

“Ladies and gentleman, may I present to you His Royal Majesty, Nikolas Ryan Rinaldi-Sixx, King…of Rosalia?” the High Priest asked.

Cheers rang out, making the older bassist finally wince as his head actually throbbed.

“And ruling at his side, His Royal Highness, Robert Harley Dall-Sixx, King Consort…of Rosalia?” the High Priestess asked with a smile.

“It’s Head Prince,” Nikki growled, glaring at her from the corner of his eye.

“I beg your pardon, Your Majesty?” she asked, startled.

“Bobby’s not simply my consort,” the older bassist told her. “He’s to be my Head Prince since there obviously can’t be _two_ Kings at once.”

“Begging your pardon, then, Your Majesty,” she said by way of apology, her face turning pink. “Let’s try this again…”

The entire crowd watched and listened with rapt attention.

“Ruling at His Majesty’s side, His Royal Highness, Robert Harley Dall-Sixx, Head Prince…of Rosalia,” the High Priestess said, her smile Returning.

The crowd let out another collective cheer that made the new King grimace again, and he couldn’t wait till he could go to bed for the next three Days.


	12. Eleven

For the next week, Nikki stayed holed up in the house he’d decided to have built not far outside the North, Northeast City limits border of Bolzano. Not even the Beauty and Elegance of his home–which was built and decorated in a more or less typical Italian style crossed with a bit of an American one–could make him be social. In fact, he spent pretty much the entirety of that Time hiding in the master suite, sacked out in bed completely deaf and almost totally blind, thanks to a couple spells Rikki cast on him to help with getting rid of his migraine.

Only when he could get up and go to the bathroom without stumbling and falling up against the wall to avoid passing out and hitting the deck did he let the Elf reverse those spells. He’d ruined being able to have anything like painkillers when one of these migraines hit with his Past addictions, but that was his own fault.

The important thing was that those spells and getting a shit-ton of rest almost never failed to rid him of those migraines. Luckily for him, he’d managed to talk Stonie–whom he was still under the Primary care of thirty Years later–into retiring from the Corps and coming to work for him full-Time. Said doctor was on the verge of being forced into retirement, anywhore, and if it helped the new King of Rosalia by making sure even his hypoglycemia didn’t make him keel over, he was all for it. The fact that said King’d promised he could work till he dropped dead, himself and made sure he was actually paid double his annual salary as a General in the Corps definitely helped with making his decision.

After taking that week to rest and recuperate, Nikki finally felt up to actually finishing the parts of his Coronation that he’d been forced to skip over. He’d technically been required to make an appearance in the Castle courtyard with his _Imperial State Crown,_ the _violet surcoat,_ the _Sovereign’s Orb,_ and the _Sovereign’s Scepter with Pentacle_ on the Day of. But the second he’d gotten away from the clearing that served as St. Edward’s Chapel and started hurling, everybody agreed to postpone that part.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” one of the guards who manned the main entrance of the Castle called out once all the Coronation guests were gathered in the courtyard. “His Royal Majesty, King Nikolas!”

The older bassist stepped out the front doors once they were opened for him as if a week hadn’t elapsed between his actual Coronation and his appearance outside his Castle.

“God and Goddess save the King!” the crowd cried before erupting into applause.

“His and Her Royal Highnesses, Head Prince Robert and Princess Auroralyn!” the guard–whose name he coulda sworn was Bianco due to his nearly-white hair–continued.

Bobby couldn’t help feeling slightly nervous, despite the smile on his face, as he stepped out to join his husband with their youngest cradled to his chest.

“And rounding out the Royal Family, His and Her Royal Highnesses, Princes Eric, Zachary, and Gunner, and Princesses Storm and Zoe!”

The kids all joined them, Lee carrying Zoe to make sure she didn’t run off when none of them were looking, and stayed slightly behind and to the sides of their parents.

“God and Goddess save the Royal Family!” the crowd cried before their next round of applause.

_“Daaaad-deeee,”_ Storm whined as cameras went off around and in front of them.

“What, sweetheart?” he asked from the corner of his mouth, glancing down from the corner of his eye as he felt her tugging on his belt loop.

“When’re we gonna nom?” his oldest daughter asked.

“Let these goofs get the pictures they want, and it’ll be soon,” Nikki hissed, knowing it’d have to be since all but Bobby–and maybe Maci–were hypoglycemic.

“Want noms _naow,”_ Zoe whined from her big brother’s grip.

“Dad, we might have to cut this shorter than anyone planned,” his oldest son hissed. “She’s getting shaky, and I think Storm is, too.”

“We’re a lil on the shaky side, too,” Zach and Gunner agreed.

“Shit,” the older bassist hissed, managing to discreetly step backward onto the guard’s foot to catch his attention. “Bianco, _dare l’ordine di iniziare il banchetto–abbiamo devo mangiare ora.”_

_“E il resto della comparsa Reale, Vostra Maestà?”_ Bianco hissed just loud enough for him to hear.

_“Vuoi qualcuno di noi svenire e avere convulsioni invece?”_ he snapped back under his breath.

The guard immediately moved to announce that the banquet was to be served a bit earlier than planned outta necessity. Even as he made the announcement, Nikki was turning to follow his family back through the double doors, the High Priest waiting to take the items he held and wore. If it weren’t for a potentially fatal situation being on the horizon, he wouldn’t be so curt and maybe even rude about it, but he wasn’t in the mood to be saving any Lives right now.

In the formal dining room, the older bassist took chair that was perfectly Centered at the slightly-raised table at the far End nearest the massive Stone fireplace. Bobby settled in the chair to his right, Maci still cradled to his chest, while Lee took the chair to his left since they were the next highest-ranking. To the younger bassist’s right was Zach, followed by Storm, Gunner followed by Zoe to the Crown Prince’s left. Putting them in order of age and rank’d been Intentional on the parts of those who’d done the planning and setup, but they’d been careful to make sure one of the older kits was next to Zoe so they could help her out, if need be.

Everyone else who’d been invited to the Coronation and subsequent banquet the previous week started to file in and take their own seats. The only one who dared to approach his table was none other than Queen Elizabeth II, her own consort–the Duke of Edinburgh–at her side. Nikki shot her a curious look, his brow cocked as he made a hand motion to disperse the guards readying to rush the table. He doubted she was dumb enough to try attacking another Royal in an assassination attempt, and besides, he wasn’t about to let _them_ attack an aging woman.

“Your Majesty, if I may be so forward as to ask…” she said after giving him and his family a curtsy.

The older bassist motioned for her to continue, noticing that his own hand was starting to shake a bit as he did.

“Why the sudden need to cut short your first appearance as King of Rosalia?” Elizabeth asked with a curious look of her own.

“If you’ll allow me to answer that, Your Majesty,” Bobby spoke up, drawing her attention to him.

She looked like she wanted to reprimand him for speaking to her outta turn, her husband gently squeezing her shoulder.

“My husband and children–even my stepson–need to eat, or we’re gonna have a mass medical crisis on our hands,” the younger bassist told her.

“How so?” the British Queen asked, sounding shocked.

“Nikki’s what’s called hypoglycemia,” he answered. “I’m assuming you’re at least aware of diabetes’ existence?”

“Unfortunately,” Elizabeth answered. “Too many suffer from the dreadful disease in my country.”

“Then you’re aware that to have diabetes means one produces either lil or no insulin on their own,” the younger bassist continued.

“I am, yes,” she answered with a short nod.

“Well, to have hypoglycemia means one’s blood sugar runs too low instead of too high,” Bobby told her. “That can be caused by simply not eating like one should, or in my husband’s and childrens’ cases, ’cuz the body produces _too much_ insulin instead of _not enough.”_

“Oh, my goodness,” the British Queen breathed, her eyes widening.

“Note how Nikki’s hand’s shaking,” he said, gesturing with his own free hand.

Nikki couldn’t have stopped the appendage from shaking like he was jittery as he lifted his fork, even if he’d tried.

“Dear God above,” Elizabeth said.

“That’s the second sign that his sugar’s getting too low,” the younger bassist said. “The first’s that his concentration starts faltering, so it’s harder for him to focus.”

“I’m not sure if we should ask what happens after he starts shaking,” the Duke of Edinburgh spoke up.

“He’ll pass out, if nothing’s done to raise his sugar again,” Bobby answered. “After losing consciousness, he’ll start seizing, and those seizures’ll continue either till a sugar drip gets started to bring his sugar back up or he dies–whichever comes first.”

“We certainly don’t need _that_ happening,” Phillip said. “And definitely not to the children, for certain.”

“I thought nobody’d disagree with that,” he chuckled. “And Your Majesty, forgive my own forwardness for speaking outta turn. Were it not imperative that my husband and children eat, I wouldn’t have taken such a liberty with anyone, yourself included.”

“Consider it already forgiven, child,” Elizabeth answered with a chuckle of her own. “Given the seriousness of the potential consequences, I’d rather ya take that liberty.”

With that, she and her consort excused themselves to join their grandsons, Princes William and Harry, at their own table. Nikki was certainly glad that she hadn’t been too offended by his mate’s presumptuous behavior as he wiped his mouth. That short conversation coulda gone a lot worse, had she decided to take some serious offense at what amounted to his consort answering for him, even though he’d been more or less unable to answer for himself.

He wasn’t surprised to soon start hearing whispers making their way around the dining room about his and the kits’ Health. No doubt one of the British Princes’d asked why on Earth they were starting the banquet earlier than planned, and someone near them’d overheard the aging Monarch explaining what she’d been told.

To be quite honest, the older bassist didn’t mind that the explanation’d gotten out, no matter how it did. It saved him a bit of Time–not to mention kept him from feeling like a broken record–by not having to repeat himself five thousand Times. Course, he knew that meant he’d likely have to release a public statement about his Health conditions, especially when it came to hosting other Royals like Queen Elizabeth II and the Duke of Edinburgh. He’d no Intentions of actually scheduling diplomatic meetings, just in case one of his Health problems reared its ugly head and kept him from attending his own meeting due to being bedridden.

After the meal, pretty much the whole crowd adjourned back to the courtyard, where there was more room to spread out. It was also a bit stuffy in the Castle, ’cuz the AC was on the fritz for some reason and opening the windows just weren’t quite enough. While Nikki headed on out to greet and otherwise socialize with some of the other Nobles and Royals, the younger bassist decided to head back to the master suite to nurse Maci in private.

“You’re really married to another man?”

Turning from where he’d been talking to what coulda been one of his distant cousins, were the blood lines different, the older bassist saw Prince Harry standing behind him.

“Henry!” his grandmother admonished him, actually using the first of his given names instead of the nickname most of the World knew him by.

“Relax, Your Majesty,” Nikki chuckled. “Personally, I’m kinda tired of the stuffiness of formality for a while.”

“That’s not how Royals’re supposed to act and speak,” the British Queen argued.

“Well, I’m calling an End to such formality before it drives me even more nuts than I already am,” he laughed. “Besides, I knew such a question was gonna come eventually, so why not let it be from someone genuinely curious instead of someone who’s just being nosy?”

“He’s a point, Elizabeth,” her husband admitted. “Although Harry really _does_ need to remember to hold his tongue better.”

“To answer your question, though,” Nikki said, turning his attention to the young Prince. “Yeah, I’m married to another man–and legally, as far as Rosalian Law’s concerned.”

“I guess what I wanna know is–why?” the younger of the British Princes asked curiously.

“Didn’t exactly have a choice in the matter,” he answered honestly. “It was more of a _written-in-the-Stars_ kinda thing than not.”

Naturally, the more well-known Royal Family looked confused, which made him chuckle.

“I’m sure ya haven’t failed to notice my ears since I’ve my tail hidden right now,” the older bassist said with a grin.

“Well, we honestly thought they were just a prop–like a Halloween headband or something,” Elizabeth admitted.

“They’re just as real as my right hand,” Nikki told them, giving them a quick flick to knock away a few errant strands of his hair. “It’s ’cuz I’m what’s called a Neko.”

“Doesn’t _neko_ mean _Cat_ in some language?” Prince William asked curiously.

“Japanese, yeah,” he answered with a nod.

The older bassist wasn’t the slightest bit surprised that he’d to explain what Nekos–not to mention Zorros–were to them. He also wasn’t surprised by their widened eyes and dropped jaws, especially when he shifted to prove that he actually could. Course, shifting got him tackled by all of his kittens with the exception of Lee and Maci, neither of whom could shift for various reasons.

Once said kittens were worn out and satisfied with what lil bit of playtime they got with Daddy for now, all of them shifted back to their human forms. Said kittens were laughing and giggling merrily, even with all the eyes that were on them from having seen them shift from their corners. Nikki pushed himself back to his feet as they hopped up and ran off, waving off the proffered hands of the British Princes as they reached down to help him. He wasn’t so old and broken that he couldn’t pick himself up, as long as he wasn’t sick, despite old War injuries.

William and Harry were both Awed at actually seeing him shift from one form to the other and back again, as was pretty much everyone else. It took a few moments for their grandparents to regain their wits, given that they’d never seen such a thing before. Their surprise continued, though, when the front doors of the Castle opened and yet another Animal darted out with a guard giving chase. Even before he turned around, he recognized the _mraw_ the Creature let out and dropped back down to his knee.

“C’mere, love,” he said, holding his arms open.

_“Mraw!”_ Bobby took a flying leap, colliding with his husband’s chest as he caught him.

Uncaring of whether the British Royals could understand him or not, the older bassist snapped at the guard as he rose for the second Time. _“Che male diavolo con voi? Erano questo il Giorni di Olde, Io avrei voi frustato prima ho battuto la merda fuori di voi, me stesso!”_

The guard sputtered as he tried to form what he thought was an acceptable response.

_“Non una parola, stronzo,”_ Nikki growled, his ears visibly laying back as he gently rubbed those of his terrified mate as he saw his grampa emerge from the Castle, Maci in his arms. _“Una ripetizione di tale una offesa_ volantà _farti frustata, forse addirittura uccisi.”_

He wasn’t surprised when the guard darted back into the Castle with a terrified whimper, and he wouldn’t be surprised if he quit his job by Day’s End.

“Well, that was certainly a bit harsh,” Elizabeth said, her eyes wide.

“Wouldn’t have been, if it weren’t for how special Bobby is,” the older bassist grumbled, cuddling his mate as if he were their youngest daughter instead.

“Wait, that’s your husband?” Prince William asked, surprised.

“Remember how I shifted into a Cat?” Nikki countered. “And said that Zorros’re a Neko’s Fox counterpart?”

“Oh, so _he_ shifts into a Fox instead of a Cat,” Prince Harry said, nodding as he got it.

“Bingo,” he answered with a nod of his own. “Normally, Bobby doesn’t shift unless he’s uncomfortable or threatened. Given the way he came flying outta the Castle, I’d lay my money on somehow being threatened before he shifted.”

_“Mraw, mraw, mraaaw,”_ the younger bassist whimpered, burying his face against him.

“He _what!?”_ his husband growled, looking down at him in shock.

“Wait, ya understood whatever it was that he…said?” the older of the British Princes asked.

“I can understand Cats–even domestic ones–better for obvious reasons, but I’ve been with Bobby for long enough to figure out what his noises mean,” Nikki answered, nodding. “And he just told me that jackass barged in on him nursing our daughter, started ranting and raving about it being unnatural, and tried to assault him.”

The entirety of the British Royal Family gaped in shock, gasps ringing out.

He wasn’t surprised to hear a furious growl behind him and looked back to see Zach and Gunner, their tails wagging so fast, they were almost a blur.

“What happened to Mama?” the older boy asked.

“Don’t worry about it, son–I’ma take care of it when the bastard comes back out,” he answered. “But if ya really wanna be helpful, take him and y’all keep an eye on him.”

Nodding, his middle son gladly took the Fox curled up against his chest, gladly cuddling him much the same way.

The older bassist turned his attention back to the main entrance, his own tail starting to twitch as his ire rose. As soon as the doors opened and the offending guard came back out with his bags, he stalked over to him, not surprised by the gasps that rang out around him. No doubt the blue eyes he was often complimented on looked more like an actual Cat’s, not to mention had Darkened to match the Sea rather than still matching the Sky.

Nikki grabbed the man by his shirt collar and shoved him up against the outer wall of the Castle, his feet a good foot off the ground. He didn’t even try to stop the growl that drifted up from the recesses of his chest, the deep, guttural Sound making his Intended victim literally piss himself. The way he stared him down no doubt factored into that, which was exactly what he wanted as he held him there.

“Gimme one good reason I shouldn’t beat the utter shit outta ya before I kill ya,” he snarled, his tone too even and Controlled to bespeak anything good about to happen.

“I–I–” the guard sputtered.

“I’m. Waiting,” the older bassist told him.

Still, he didn’t get an actual intelligent response.

“Ya _do_ realize that I could kill ya without even laying a hand on ya, right?” Nikki asked, feeling his hair start to float around his shoulders.

All that garnered him was another terrified whimper.

“Considering that my mate doesn’t lie about others trying to assault him ’cuz he’s _been_ assaulted before, I’m more inclined to believe _him_ over _you,”_ he told him. “And assaulting my mate’d getcha killed, even if I _weren’t_ your King–that’s just how Nekos and Zorros _are.”_

The guard let out an _Oof!_ as he simply dropped him right on his ass, uncaring of whether the landing broke his tailbone or not.

“Get far, far outside Rosalia’s borders, and don’tcha _ever_ set foot across ’em again,” the older bassist growled. “’Cuz this is the _only_ act of Mercy you’re getting outta me–next Time, ya won’t be so lucky.”

He scrambled up, grabbed his bags, and took off for the gates as quick as he physically could.

Turning back to the crowd of Royals, Nobles, and other diplomats, Nikki was still poised and ready for a fight as he started unbuttoning his shirt. “I’d suggest taking twelve giant steps back– _now._ And don’t bother trying to intervene, ’cuz you’ll wind up with a Death certificate that says _accidental_ on it, if ya do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to include this link so that anyone interested can get a visual of the house. While I didn't go into very much detail about it, I still gave it an Honorable Mention, as it were. I'd also suggest opening it in anything _but_ Google Chrome–opening it in that browser on my laptop gets me nothing but the lead image till the page loads, then the pop-up box Zillow insists on using turns completely white. It seems to work just fine in Microsoft Edge and on the Android version of Chrome, so I've yet to figure that one out, but thought that problem still deserved a mention, just in case anyone else runs into it.  
> ~Angel
> 
> Link to House–https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/1860-Via-Aracena-Camarillo-CA-93010/64715249_zpid/


	13. Twelve

The Day after the half-disastrous first appearance of the Royal Family, Nikki was forced to host the British Queen, her Secretary of State for Defence, the Italian President, his current Minister of Defence, and the guy who’d soon take his position at his house. He didn’t have the slightest inclination to go anywhere near the Castle today, but he’d some matters he needed to get some balls rolling on, and these were his first choices.

First and foremost was making sure there was some kinda mutual agreement of aid between Rosalia and certain specific countries. Britain was obviously a big first choice, due to the fact that they were historically a powerhouse, especially with Naval concerns. In fact, they were said to have the best and strongest Navy on the Planet, and considering what some of his Future plans were, having them on his side would no doubt be a good thing. The US was his second choice, despite the way Vietnam veterans were so grossly mistreated, since it was well-known that they were another military powerhouse to be reckoned with.

When it came to the Italian President and his Minister of Defence, the plans were a bit different, but certainly big. Due to Rosalia being a completely landlocked country, Nikki’s Intent was to work out some kinda agreement for Rosalians to do their own fishing off Italian Coasts so they’d more than just the types of Fish found in Lakes, Rivers, and Streams. The amount of money being spent to import species found in the Sea–both alive and dead–was absolutely ridiculous, and he was trying to find a peaceful way to cut costs for his people.

If Italy wanted to play hardball with him, though, the older bassist fully Intended to prove just how good he was at playing _that_ particular game. Should what was technically Rosalia’s mother country not wanna cooperate with his attempt at a peaceful agreement, he’d wage all-out War. He’d target the Italian gov’mental region of Venetia–of which, Venice was the Capital–since it’d just enough Coastline for his Intentions. Were that the case, he’d be forced to go after the region of Friuli-Venezia Giulia–of which, the once coveted City of Trieste was Capital–for one very good reason. If he didn’t go after that second region, too, it’d be cut off from its mother country, only accessible by Sea, should he win any Wars over Venetia.

“Top of the Morn to ya, Your Majesty,” he said, having answered the front door to see Queen Elizabeth II and her Secretary of State for Defence on his front porch.

“Good Morn, Your Majesty,” the man responded, offering his hand once the new King’d taken and gently kissed the back of his Queen’s.

“Simply gorgeous abode,” Elizabeth told him as they stepped into the foyer, which he’d call more of a rotunda than not.

“Many thanks,” Nikki chuckled as he accepted the handshake. “And who do I’ve the pleasure of meeting this Morn?”

“The Crown’s Secretary of State for Defence, The Right Honourable Geoff Hoon,” the British Queen answered, a touch of Pride coloring her voice.

“Both of ya just call me Nikki,” he told them. “And I’ll refrain from using any ridiculous nicknames unless that’s what you’d prefer.”

“Nikki?” Geoff asked curiously.

“When I legally Changed my name back in ’78 under American Law, I Changed it to Nikolas,” the older bassist explained. “But since I generally hate formality–especially in my own house–I tend to go by Nikki more than anything.”

“Ah, I see,” he said with a nod.

“Very few ever get away with calling me anything but Your or Her Majesty, depending on the party referring to me,” Elizabeth chuckled.

“Hence why I said I’d try to refrain from using any ridiculous nicknames,” Nikki told her. “’Cuz if I don’t, I’ma be spitting out Lizzie left and right atcha.”

The British Queen erupted into laughter when he said that, but she’d to commend his Honesty as he led them to what was apparently his home office. Only her husband had ever gotten away with calling her Lizzie, and that was a rare occurrence for all the Years they’d been married. But considering how genuine this new King seemed to be, she might actually let him get away with referring to her thus, as long as they were in private settings like his home.

On their way to the older bassist’s home office, they were interrupted by a pained, irate shriek from the balcony that overlooked the Circular, sunken living room. Looking up, they saw what appeared to be a toddler fighting with an older sibling, Elizabeth gasping when she saw fists flying. Snapping in Italian, her host caught their attention, and one sharp look from him was all it took to make them knock it off and apologize. She was honestly surprised by just how much Control he possessed over his progeny, but it was refreshing to see for herself.

With the fight between Zach and Zoe brought to a quick End, he continued on to his office, figuring Bobby was upstairs tending to their youngest at the moment. Said mate insisted on spending as much Time with the kits–especially their baby–as he could before he left for tour. He wasn’t looking forward to leaving them, but he also loved what he’d chosen as his profession two decades ago.

In the office, Nikki gestured for the British Queen and her companion to take seats in the leather arm chairs he’d set up across from his desk. While they were making themselves comfortable–which wasn’t that hard, as high a focus as he’d put on Comfort for his own needs–he settled behind his desk and reached behind him. He held out the bottle of Water he grabbed from his mini fridge in a Silent offer, not surprised when the Queen reached out and took it. That prompted him to grab two more, one of which he handed to her companion before unscrewing the lid from his own. Only once they’d swallowed their first sips and cleared their throats did the aging woman bring their meeting to a start.

“So, you’re interested in forming a political and military alliance with the United Kingdom?” she asked.

“That, I am,” Nikki answered with a nod.

“Any particular reason why this soon after your Coronation, or is it simply to have in place, just in case it’s needed later on?” the British Queen asked curiously.

“A combo of both, really,” he answered. “Mostly for later on, but it’d certainly be nice to have right off the bat, if necessary.”

“I see,” Elizabeth said thoughtfully. “And why would Rosalia be needing the help of the Crown right off the bat, if I may be so bold as to ask?”

“Well, one of my first plans I Intend to get the ball rolling on pretty quick may very well involve all-out War,” the older bassist told her, pausing when there was a knock at the door. “Your call sign better be Black Cat, or I’m not unlocking that door.”

“Good thing it is, Vault,” a voice laughed on the other side of the Mahogany panel.

Effectively hitting the pause button on his diplomatic meeting, Nikki got up to open the door for the man he’d known for decades. “’Bout Time ya got here, Black Cat.”

“Bah, that’s whatcha get for hiding this place on the Northeastern side of town, Vault!” the former Marine laughed. “Now, let’s get down to business since I know you’re already chomping at the bit.”

Letting out a chuckle, he nodded as he reclaimed his seat, Black Cat settling on the caddy-cornered couch next to his desk. “You’ll have to forgive our light-hearted banter, Your Majesty. We go a long way back, and we’ve found over the decades that humor serves us better than really fighting.”

“Quite all right, Nikki,” Elizabeth laughed, her wrinkles really showing. “Who’ve we the pleasure of meeting now?”

“Gen. Wayne Cranston, formerly of the USMC,” the older bassist answered. “He was my former commanding officer till I was _Honorably Discharged_ in ’75. After that, he became my attorney for the last twenty-five Years since he retired not long after my own discharge.”

“So, why’d ya call him _Black Cat,_ if I may ask?” Geoff cocked his brow curiously.

“Dunno if the same happens in the British military or not, but almost everyone in the American military–regardless of branch–winds up with what we call a _call sign,”_ Nikki explained.

“Mine’s _Black Cat_ ’cuz I’ve a short fuse on my temper when I wanna, and when it gets set off, I _go off_ with the _bang_ of a firecracker,” the former Marine said with a grin. “Folks said I reminded them of a Black Cat firecracker, so it stuck.”

“And what about referring to Nikki as _Vault?”_ the British man asked.

“Let’s just say that I’m so good at keeping Secrets–not to mention Controlling Fire–that not even trying to burn me alive in ’66 could gain the Viet Cong the Intel they wanted,” Nikki answered with a grin. “Everybody started saying I was like a Lead-lined vault, and the one word Ended up turning into my call sign.”

The pair across the desk couldn’t help bursting into laughter, if only at his grin.

“Hey, it’s better than _Rocket_ or _Hammer_ just for being hung like a Horse,” he told them, that grin never slipping from his face.

“Okay, I concur with that,” Elizabeth chuckled as she settled down. “I think I’d much rather be called _Vault_ for my ability to keep Secrets, were I a such a well-endowed male.”

“Now, going back to business…” The older bassist took a quick sip of his Water. “Once I became King, there were a couple folks from my military Past that I wanted here in Rosalia with me–Black Cat’s one of them, ’cuz I can’t think of anyone better to head up my military than him.”

The British Queen and her companion were listening Intently.

“Basically, he’s serving as Secretary of Defense, which’s the American version of a Minister of Defence,” Nikki continued.

“So, he’s essentially filling the same role as Geoff?” she asked.

“Essentially, yeah,” he answered with a nod.

Returning the nod, Elizabeth and Geoff allowed him to continue with where he’d left off when they were interrupted by the knock at the door. Even Black Cat’s full attention was riveted on him as he explained what his plans for the immediate Future of his country were. They all agreed that it was certainly ambitious, as well as that it could very well cause some pretty serious conflicts with Italy.

Easily seeing that the older bassist didn’t really wanna go to War, especially this soon after his Coronation, she pondered his words. He was certainly right about having Britain on his side being a good thing, should he ever need aid from another country. The fact that Italy was a fairly big powerhouse in their own right meant that he’d certainly need aid from someone, if tensions ever rose and conflicts ever developed that could lead to a War. And she’d to commend him on his Intelligence for thinking of these kinda things before the potential for them ever turned into a Reality.

It didn’t take her or her Secretary of State for Defence to decide that allying with him could very well be a good thing for both sides. Nikki’d have the aid he needed, especially when it came to possible attacks from Sea and even potentially the Sky. Provided that they stayed in good standing with one another, his forced were better trained in tactics better suited to staying on the ground. They were also more familiar with fighting in Mountainous terrains, considering how high up in the Alps they were.

“Sounds like we’ve an understanding, then,” Black Cat said with a decisive nod.

“Then let’s get the formal paperwork drawn up,” he said when his guests nodded their agreement. “The quicker we get it in writing, the happier I’ll be.”

“Same ol’ Vault I know and love as much as hate,” the other Marine chuckled, ever at the ready with his skills as an attorney.

It didn’t take very long for said man to write up the ever important contract, knowing that his friend–and now boss–preferred keeping things short, sweet, and to the point, so to speak.

“Ya sure like your contracts and other written agreements short,” Geoff chuckled as he and his Queen read over it.

“What can I say?” Nikki asked with a grin. “I got tired of all the big-worded mumbo jumbo during my Time in the Corps. Since this is my country, I’m cutting the shit and keeping it simple so that even a target dummy can make sense of it.”

Both of the Brits couldn’t help cracking up before they continued reading.

“I’m liking the sound of this particular agreement,” Elizabeth said once they were done. “Any objections, Geoff?”

“None, Your Majesty,” he answered with a shake of his head. “Honestly, this is more fair than I’ve ever seen from another political leader.”

“I blame being partially raised by Elves,” the older bassist chuckled.

“Elves?” the British Queen asked, looking surprised. “Are ya daft, son?”

“Nay, Your Majesty.”

Nikki snickered at hearing the familiar disembodied voice, but outright laughed when they shrieked seconds later.

“Last I checked, I’m of Elvin race,” Rikki said after dropping his Glamour to reveal where he’d been hiding in the corner. “And it was my wife and I who helped his grandparents raise him, so he’s not wrong about being partially raised by Elves.”

“Oh, my goodness,” Elizabeth said, a hand held to her chest.

“Ya know, ya coulda knocked on the wall instead of trying to give her a heart attack, Dad,” the older bassist said with a chuckle.

“And I think we both know how easy ’twould be for me to Resurrect her,” he shot back with a smirk as he pushed away from the wall.

Once the British Queen and her companion Calmed down and regained their wits, they moved on to actually signing the document Black Cat’d drawn up. With their flourishing signatures across the bottom alongside his and that of the Rosalian King, he moved to quickly make a copy of it. That copy went into the Secretary’s hands, then into the man’s brief case so it wouldn’t get lost between now and when they made it back to London.

Almost as soon as he’d closed said brief case, there was another knock at the door, which Rikki moved to answer for him. Opening it, they saw the American President–George W. Bush–and Secretary of Defense–Donald Rumsfeld–standing on the other side. In all Honesty, Nikki’d forgotten he was also supposed to be having a meeting when them today, as well, which he blamed on his brain damage.

“You’ll have to forgive me for failing to recall our meeting today, Mr. President,” he said, having risen to shake George’s man.

“I’m sure you’ve had a lot on your plate lately, Your Majesty,” George chuckled.

“Well, that’s not all of it,” the older bassist laughed. “I blame my brain damage–literally.”

Even the Brits–who were sitting in on this particular meeting–looked surprised alongside the pair of Americans.

“Old head injury from the Vietnam War,” Nikki explained when they looked curious. “Honestly, I’m lucky I ever made it off the battlefield, let alone woke up and have as much cognitive and physical function as I do.”

“Merciful God in Heaven,” Geoff breathed in shock.

“Yeah, considering my thalamus and hypothalamus both look more like a raisin right now,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Even if I were still wheelchair-bound from the spinal injury, I’d be grateful just to be alive and able to do more than drool on myself play with my bottom lip.”

“It’s an utter miracle,” Elizabeth told him. “I certainly wouldn’t have known ya suffer from those things, if ya hadn’t mentioned them.”

Nodding, the older bassist told them that was exactly how he liked it, ’cuz he didn’t exactly have the clearest memories of that Day. It was hard for him to talk about something he barely remembered, but what lil he _did_ remember was the worst of it. Screaming agony, the ringing in his ears, muffled cries from the soldiers around him that were trying to get to his rescue like he’d been trying to get to his fallen man–they weren’t exactly pleasant for much of anyone.

Since it was obvious he didn’t wanna talk about that part of his Life, the group was quick to move on to the more important business. After hearing him out and seeing how much Thought he’d put into the possible outcomes of his plans, George and Donald were just as quick to agree to forming a political and military alliance. They could tell he was no idiot as much as the British Queen and her companion could, and that he also had the advice of some damn good men, too. Between Royal adviser Janus and Black Cat, nobody was gonna let him fly off his handle and do anything stupid, especially when it could potentially cost a lotta Lives.

Another short, but sweet contract was quickly written up and printed out for the Americans to read over and sign. Nikki pretended not to notice the Elf slip outta the room, knowing he prolly sensed the further-increased Energy on the property as two more people arrived. Given that it was likely the Italian President and his Minister of Defence, it was a good thing he headed off to answer the door.

With the second contract now signed, copied, and filed away by those who required copies of it, he was ready to face the final pair he’d to meet with today. He sincerely hoped this meeting went just as well as the first two, forcing that niggling feeling eating at the back of his brain into the lil mental cage he’d built for it. Thoughts were just as much Energy as words, and he knew thinking about something too much could make it Manifest just as much as using physical actions to make something Manifest, and he didn’t want that to happen here.


	14. Thirteen

Part of Nikki wasn’t surprised that his meeting with Italian President Carlo Azeglio Ciampi, Italian Minister of Defence Sergio Mattarella, and the man who’d be taking over Sergio’s position in the near Future, Antonio Martino, didn’t go nearly as well. He’d suspected the Italians were gonna wanna play hardball on helping him make his country more Self-sufficient, if nothing else. What downright pissed him off, though, was the fact that Carlo’d outright laughed in his face at what he was proposing, not to mention his warning that he didn’t wanna mess with him on a political front.

Glad that Rikki and Sirena were able to take the kits–even Lee–to the homestead he’d spent half his kittenhood on in the Sawtooth Mountains of Idaho, the older bassist’d declared War. Luckily, Bobby’d already left for Poison’s _Glam, Slam, Metal Jam_ tour they’d been planning almost from the Time they got home from the _Power to the People_ tour the Summer previous. The last thing he wanted was for any of his family to get caught up in the ensuing Insanity and Dangers, so it was better they’d left.

Mixing several different styles of warfare combined with having the aid of the US Air Force and Marines, as well as the British Army and Navy, on top of his own Army quickly Changed things. It hadn’t taken long for them to overwhelm the Italian military, especially when a legion of Elves–who took the places of many from the Rosalian Army–joined the fray. When they realized they couldn’t kill their opponents when they attacked one of those Elves, that they just got right back up and inflicted three Times as much damage, Italy’d quickly conceded defeat. Literally overnight, the Kingdom of Rosalia expanded to twice its size and then some when they conquered _Veneto_ and _Friuli-Venezia Giulia_.

Having gained access to the Adriatic Sea and opened up many opportunities to make his country that much better and prosperous, Nikki’d laid off his assault. Still, he warned the Italians to take this as a lesson not to fuck with him and his, ’cuz he wouldn’t hold back, if such a conflict broke out again–it’d be the Beginning of World War III.

“I must say, Your Majesty,” Janus was saying as he held a cold compress to his head. “Ya took one helluva gamble, and I’m surprised it actually paid off.”

“I’m not–surprised, that is,” he sighed as he flopped back on his couch.

“I guess it’s just that since Rosalia’s never been to War due to being such a peaceful country ruled by equally peaceful men, I wasn’t sure if our military could handle it, even with aid,” the Royal adviser admitted.

“Then I guess ya shoulda been paying attention in school, and you’d have known what powerhouses the US and UK are,” he chuckled, readjusting his compress. “Put ’em on the same team instead of pitted against each other, and they’re a Force to be reckoned with and them some.”

“I concur, Your Majesty,” he chuckled.

“Now, did I ever wanna expand my Kingdom to twice its size and then some? Hell, no,” Nikki told him. “But I meant what I said when I toldja I’d go after _Friuli-Venezia Giulia_ in addition to _Veneto_ just so they wouldn’t be cut off from their mother country.”

“Even though it garnered ya the Provinces of _Belluno, Padova, Rovigo, Treviso, Venezia, Verona,_ and _Vicenza_ from the _Veneto_ region, and _Gorizia, Pordenone, Trieste,_ and _Udine_ from the _Friuli-Venezia Giulia_ region,” Janus said with a grin.

“Not to mention _Trento_ since I was forced to take over the other half of what once made up the _Trentino-Alto Adige_ region before Bellini gifted this Kingdom to Grampa Serafino,” he added.

Their conversation was brought to an abrupt End by Sirena darting into the master suite like her ass was on Fire. Completely breathless as she reached the sitting area where the older bassist was stretched out, it took her a few moments to tell him why she’d come running for him. He bolted upright the minute she caught her breath and spoke, his mind awhirl as she explained the phone call she’d just answered for him.

Bobby’d just been taken in for an emergency spinal surgery after being taken to the University of Nebraska Medical Center. From what she’d been told by the trio of blondes who made up the rest of his band, what’d led up to that scenario hadn’t been pretty. The older bassist knew what’d really started it–a drunken motorcycle wreck not long before _Open Up_ was released in May of 1988.

According to Bret, Rikki, and CC, his mate’d climbed up on the eight-foot drum riser, which wasn’t anything outta the norm for him when he was onstage. When he jumped back down, they were expecting him to land somewhat in a crouch and spring back up to continue rocking out like he always did. Instead, he’d almost immediately gone completely down with a scream even the crowd could hear without a mic in front of his face. They knew something was really wrong when he curled up in the fetal position and either couldn’t or wouldn’t get back up.

“When did that happen?” Nikki demanded.

“They say on the first,” the Elvin woman answered. “Why on Earth he’d wait so long to get help’s beyond me.”

“’Cuz he’s a stubborn lil shit like that,” he grumbled, dragging a hand down his face.

“Oh, as if you’re _not,”_ Sirena said, managing a soft giggle.

“Oh, shut up, Mom, and just take me to him,” the older bassist demanded. “Or rather, to _those_ idiots since I’m sure they’re waiting on him.”

“Rikki’s already watching over the kids, so they’re taken care of,” she told him as he rose.

“Just transfer us to somewhere where I’m not gonna be seen losing my breakfast,” Nikki managed to chuckle.

Cocking a brow at him, the Elvin woman braced her hands on her hips.

“Migraine, butcha know that ain’t gonna stop me when my mate needs me,” he told her.

“For the Love of–Nikki, I swear, I’ma kill ya one of these Days,” Sirena groaned, even as she smirked to belie there actually being any Truth to her words.

“Janus, work with Rikki to watch the kids and hold down the Castle, so to speak,” the older bassist said. “He’s technically my first pick since he’s a Prince in his own right, but _you_ know more about Rosalian history and politics than he does.”

“Yea, Your Majesty,” Janus answered with a curt nod. “Consider it done.”

“I’ll give a call home, if I don’t just invade Rikki’s head, once I find out how he’s doing,” Nikki continued. “Just don’t expect me to come back till he gets discharged, ’cuz it ain’t happening.”

“I’d expect no less, sir,” the Royal adviser chuckled. “Now get cracking and go see your mate.”

Nodding, he let Sirena wrap an arm around his waist, knowing she was more than strong enough to steady even _his_ six-six frame. Clutching the Ruby- and Obsidian-embedded, guitar-shaped handfasting necklace that hung down his chest, he nodded again to let her know he was ready. Only then did she take them into the transference, and he wasn’t disappointed in feeling the typical sensations he was accustomed to every Time he Traveled thus.

Appearing in a grassy patch not far from what he thought was the main entrance, the older bassist almost immediately dropped to his knees and hurled. Thankfully, his companion’d made them appear with a Glamour already around them, which not only hid them from human sight, but made it so that only they could hear his retching.

Once he’d gotten his stomach to settle again, Nikki let her cast a painkiller spell on him to at least lessen the migraine making his head pound. That was the only way he was gonna be able to get back to his feet and get inside under his own power, rather than on a stretcher as yet another patient. Back on said feet, he got her to lead him behind a set of overgrown bushes so she could drop the Glamour, just without freakin’ out any nearby humans. With that done, she started to lead him inside, apparently already knowing where to find his fallen, injured mate. He wasn’t the least bit surprised by that, unlike the distinct lack of feeling his Energy, likely due to him being anesthetized right now.

It wasn’t till they reached the sixth floor that he saw the other three-quarters of Poison in the waiting area of what turned out to be the Neurological Sciences Center. Their varying shades of blonde hair, depending on which member was in question at the Time, and the fact that said hair reached at least their shoulders gave them away. Not exactly caring about whether he scared the utter shit outta them or not, the older bassist headed straight for them. Sirena gave a hot pursuit, knowing how he could get when he was upset and not wanting him to take it out on them.

“Nikki!” the drummer gasped, jerking awake with a gasp when he kicked his booted foot.

“Somebody better have some kinda update for me, or I might start using limbs as pins and heads as bowling balls,” Nikki growled.

“Hey, chill out, man.” Bret groaned as he sat up and stretched. “The docs’re saying he’ll have a good prognosis, as long as all goes well.”

“So, what the fuck happened to my husband?” he demanded, settling down a bit as the vocalist pulled something outta his pocket and handed to him. Realizing it was Bobby’s handfasting necklace, he was grateful he’d snagged the piece before the medical staff could potentially lose it.

“Ya know about his herniated discs and all that jazz,” the front man countered, although it wasn’t exactly a question.

“Well, yeah,” he said. “Who the fuck do ya think went to the hospital to make sure he was still alive that Night?”

“Judging by what they saw on his X-rays, the docs think that jumping off Rikki’s riser this week finally brought all that to a head,” CC said.

“They told us that the herniated discs likely just couldn’t take the abuse he put them through, and they finally cried _Uncle!_ by basically exploding,” Rikki added.

“Which allowed his vertebrae to essentially slam together and finish squeezing out the jelly from the donuts, as the docs put it.” The final blonde wrinkled his nose at such a Thought.

“Very appetizing imagery, Michaels,” Nikki dead-panned.

“Hey, I’m just repeating what the docs told us,” he chuckled a mite defensively.

“Now, what the hell’s this about _docs?”_ the older bassist asked.

“They couldn’t figure out who was better suited to pulling out and replacing those discs–neuro, or ortho,” the drummer explained. “From the looks of it, they thought it might be better for neuro to handle it ’cuz of the close proximity to his spinal cord.”

“Then again, since it’s gonna be involving bone, they thought that part was better handled by ortho,” the shortest blonde added.

“But to save Time and get him help quicker, they decided they’d just work in tandem and each surgeon’d take care of his own respective field as necessary,” Bret concluded.

Dragging a hand down his face again, the older bassist felt like bashing his head against a wall as he asked why on Earth they hadn’t brought him to a hospital sooner. True to his typical form, Bobby hadn’t wanted to seek medical help after that Fateful jump in Poplar Bluff, Missouri. In fact, he’d threatened to unman his band mates, if they tried taking him in and especially calling his husband back home.

He’d been dealing with the pain in his lower neck and upper back for the last thirteen Years, and he’d a few flare-ups during that Time. Some were worse than others, but they all pretty much always died away on their own, given that he took it easy and got some rest. Granted, he’d been forced to play another show the next Day in Springfield, Missouri, but they’d two Days off after that. The younger bassist’d planned to just lay around on the bus or his hotel room, whichever he wound up in, thinking he’d be fine again by their next show.

Unfortunately, that next show at the South Dakota State Fairgrounds in Huron, South Dakota’d to be cancelled at the last minute. Bobby’d managed to muscle through the pain to start getting ready for the show, but turning too quick to answer a knock on the bus door’d put him on his knees. If not for the driver having the keys, the rest of the guys wouldn’t have gotten the door open to check on him when he screamed without having to break into their own bus.

Finding him doubled over on his knees, they knew he wasn’t gonna get any better like he normally did when his neck and back started acting up. It took all three of them to get him up, and every movement on any of their parts made him let out a sob that sounded eerily similar to when he was in labor. Nikki couldn’t help a wince and rubbing at his shoulders, remembering those mid-labor cries and how they were usually muffled only by him trying to take chunks outta said body parts. Still, he listened Intently as they told him that once they’d gotten him off to bus to make the EMTs’ jobs easier, Bret’d finally called for help.

“None of us even knew about the weakness in his arms,” the front man told him. “If we’d known it was that combined with the pain, we’d have made him go to the hospital back in Missouri.”

“I should hope so, ’cuz spinal injuries ain’t shit to dick around with,” he said. “Trust me, if anyone knows the Truth of those words, it’s me.”

“Whaddaya mean, dude?” Rikki asked, having never known about his own spinal problems.

“Remember how some Days, I’ve issues with standing up and walking around?” the older bassist countered.

“Yeah, we’ve thoughtcha were gonna collapse a few Times,” the guitarist said.

“It’s ’cuz I’ve spinal issues of my own,” Nikki finally revealed after having known them for over a decade.

“No way,” the drummer breathed, his eyes widening.

“I shitcha not, Rik,” he responded, shaking his head. “Blew out pretty much my entire spine from the base of my skull to the tip of my tail back in ’70. And don’t ask me anything else about it, ’cuz I’m legally obligated to keep my mouth shut, especially in public.”

Knowing how he was when he said something like that, the trio of blondes nodded their assent, agreeing to save any questions about the actual incident for later.

“With that said–fuck, how’re ya _not_ paralyzed?” Bret asked.

“I was–for two Years,” the older bassist chuckled. “From the waist down, I couldn’t feel a thing–not even my own dick.”

“Yeesh,” the front man winced. “That definitely had to suck.”

“More than I can put into words,” Nikki said with a soft laugh. “But those spinal issues from pretty much having my whole spine replaced and put back together are why I’ve what I call my _weak-legged Days.”_

Thinking about how much trouble they’d seen him have at Times over the Years, they started comparing that to how Bobby’d been acting the past few Days. As they thought about it, even CC realized they shoulda known he wasn’t just in pain, that he was suffering from weakness, too. He’d all the classic signs, such as not having as tight a grip as normal and nearly dropping everything from his picks to his actual instrument.

Even Nikki knew they shoulda gotten him help sooner, but part of him couldn’t blame them, considering they didn’t live with him and see what he went through on a daily basis like the younger bassist did. He supposed that he should just be thankful they’d even gotten him help at all when they coulda just let him keep going till those misplaced vertebrae chopped his spinal cord in half.

It was a couple more hours before two men in scrubs came into the waiting area, reaching up to pull down the masks covering their lower faces as they did. They said they were looking for Bobby’s friends, not realizing that any of his family’d been notified and arrived since they took him back. As was his rightful place, the older bassist rose and told them his was his husband, rolling his eyes at the somewhat disgusted looks they gave him for such an announcement. Showing them a copy of their marriage license–as per Rosalian Law, of course–made them actually start filling them in, rather than running their mouths about gay marriage being wrong.

Bobby was in for a long road of recovery ahead of him, the surgeons saying that he’d need the next six months of recuperation and rehab to make a full recovery. It was gonna be long, hard, and arduous–especially for a man as accustomed to being physically active as he was–but it could certainly be done. Without this surgery, he coulda been looking at being paralyzed from the chest down for the rest of his Life, possibly even dead. Luckily, his husband admitting to having spinal problems of his own gave them Hope for his eventual recovery.

“Even though it’s not exactly a good thing, we like hearing that,” Dr. Robert Singer told him.

“You’ll be able to sympathize with him, as well as help him along his road to recovery prolly better than anyone,” his colleague, Dr. Patrick Frost, agreed.

“You’ll already know what he’s going through, both Emotionally and physically,” the first surgeon continued. “Everything from getting him to cry out his frustrations to being able to help him cope with the pain–preferably without getting addicted to anything–all of it.”

“Well, yeah, ’cuz I’ve been through it myself,” Nikki said. “And with a lot more than just a couple discs, at that.”

“How many, in your case?” the second surgeon asked curiously.

“Try pretty much every single one from the base of my skull all the way to the tip of my tail,” he answered, wagging said appendage to get their attention.

Both men winced, the other three-quarters of Poison joining them, even though he’d already told the latter group.

“I spent two Years wheelchair-bound, unable to feel anything–including my own crotch–from the waist down,” the older bassist continued. “Even changing my own catheters was a bitch, ’cuz I couldn’t feel what I was doing beyond my fingertips, so I’d to hope and pray I got the damn things in far enough and the balloons inflated and deflated enough, respectively.”

“At least your husband’s able to skip over that part,” Dr. Singer said, managing a chuckle.

“Seriously, ’cuz a catheter’s the last thing I’d Wish on even my worst enemy, male or female,” Nikki agreed.

“Well, now that he’s outta surgery, when can we see him?” the front man asked.

“Once we’re sure he’s settled in his recovery room,” Dr. Frost answered.

“However, only two at a Time,” the first surgeon told them. “And we’re sure his husband’s gonna fill one of those slots at all Times.”

“You’re damn fuckin’ right, I am,” he grumbled. “Sorry, not sorry, but I’m the one he’s to live with, not any of y’all.”

None of them could really argue his point, not that they thought they’d win that particular fight, even if they’d tried. As the surgeons headed off to see if their patient was settled in his recovery room, it was decided that Bret’d accompany the older bassist back first. Other than the drummer, he’d known his husband the longest, and they swore they were each other’s best friend within the band.

Shortly thereafter, Dr. Singer Returned with the news that Bobby was settled in his recovery room and could start taking visitors. Nodding, the first pair rose to follow him back, the surgeon’s eyes widening in surprise when he realized just how tall the older bassist was. He quickly shook off his surprise, though, as he led them back and gently pushed open the door to the room he’d sought. As he followed behind the two shorter men, said older bassist prepared himself for what was undoubtedly gonna be far from a pretty sight.

Laying in a hospital bed with all sortsa shit all over the place, Bobby looked like he was far from comfortable as he grimaced, his eyes closed. He’d the leads of a heart monitor coming up outta the neck of the hospital gown he’d been put in, an IV in the back of his right hand, and a cannula shoved up his nose. In addition to that, he sported a cervical collar like he’d get after a car wreck wrapped around his neck, and it seemed like he’d a thick bandage in one spot under it.

To the eyes of his husband, he looked kinda pale, which could be as much from the blood they were currently transfusing back into him as much as the harsh lighting in the room. Nikki didn’t let his appearance bother him, though, as he pulled up one of the chairs next to his bedside and gently grabbed his hand. Feeling the gentle squeeze he’d given it, the younger bassist cracked open his eyes, a tired smile crossing his face as he saw a slightly blurry version of his husband’s face. He was tired from not sleeping very well the past few Days ’cuz of his pain combined with the anesthesia, but at least he wasn’t alone and _was_ protected by the man he loved now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I just wanna say–kids, don't try to start a draft from one device, then actually edit and post it from another, and especially not when you're pushing brain-dead stupid-tired. This site goofing up on a draft I'd started last Night by hiding it from me nearly had me questioning my Sanity just now when I accidentally found it–and it threw off my count of how many chapters I thought I had.
> 
> Time for me to go get some sleep–once I take a Dog out again, that is–before I totally lose my mind since this story's nowhere near finished, and I fully Intend it to be finished eventually. This public service announcement's been brought to y'all by a tired, arthritic Witch who needs a break, but can't get the ideas to stop flowing. LOL!  
> ~Angel


	15. Fourteen

It took about a week for Bobby to Heal from his surgery enough that Drs. Singer and Frost felt comfortable with discharging him. Part of their reason for finally doing so, despite how stubborn he seemed to be about taking it easy and resting, was his husband telling them that he’d plenty of people to keep him off his feet. Not only was there the older bassist, but their kids’d shame him into doing what he was told like they always did when he needed to relax, and his own doctor’d make sure he took care of himself like he was supposed to.

Finding out that Stonie was a former Marine in his own right and used to dealing with spinal problems–mostly ’cuz of Nikki–finally made them agree to letting him Return to Rosalia. Both still wanted the younger bassist to come back for a post-op checkup in three-to-four weeks, and they also wanted the man who’d be watching over him to keep them updated, if anything Changed, good or bad.

Once he was finally discharged, they didn’t even bother with a wheelchair since they weren’t even gonna head downstairs. They’d finally told the pair of doctors about Sirena being an Elf, which actually helped a lot more than they’d thought it would. Having her fully Heal the incision in his throat all the way down to the deepest layer was part of what got Bobby discharged when he was. In fact, they’d even been able to remove his stitches before he left, her work’d been deemed to be done so well. Neither surgeon’d ever seen anything like it, and while they were certainly impressed with what they saw, they both advised letting his spine Heal on its own.

Even Nikki agreed with that part, saying that that might allow the replacement discs to settle into the exact spots his body needed them in better. He doubted they’d move, considering that they were anchored into place with Titanium plates and screws, but he’d rather play it safe than sorry. Nature could work in Mysterious ways sometimes, and if She decided She didn’t like where the surgeons’d put the hardware, She could easily make it shift slightly so it was in a better position for his needs.

_“Oooh,_ fuck me,” the younger bassist whimpered as he helped him sit up to get dressed.

“Nah, I think we need to hold off on _that,”_ he chuckled, making sure to go easy on him. “You’ll fuck up your neck again–and maybe even worse than this Time–if I go doing that right now.”

_“Har dee har har,”_ Bobby dead-panned with a wince. “Ya know I wasn’t being serious, love.”

“Too well I know it, sweetheart,” the older bassist said. “I’ve been in your current boots and then some, so to speak.”

“I dunno how the hell ya put up with the pain,” he told him. “’Cuz this hurts as bad as labor!”

The surgeons both looked surprised when he said that.

“Trust me, I got my _Get Outta Jail Free_ card, as it were,” Nikki laughed. “It just led to even more problems down the road, which’s why I haven’t been letting them give ya anything.”

“Fuck, I’ll take that _miracle tea_ Rikki and Sirena try to drown me with when I’m in labor over anything addictive,” the younger bassist swore. He couldn’t help a pained cry as he was helped into one of his button-downs, which was easier for him at the moment.

“I know of something even better than that–but we’ll save that for when we’re back home,” he told him with a grin. “It’ll be better that way so Rikki can carry your loopified ass to bed for me, even though I damn well could do it myself.”

Drs. Singer and Frost watched as the older bassist helped his husband get his boxers and jeans on, neither one surprised the poor guy was still in pain. Till his spine completely Healed, he was bound to still have _some_ pain, but it’d fade a lil more with each Day that passed. After he was Healed, the only thing that’d likely make him hurt’d be the rehab he’d need to regain full motion and function in his trunk and upper limbs.

Once Bobby was ready to go, his husband helped him stand up, gently pulling him against his side as he looked over at the Elvin woman. She nodded to what she read in his eyes, letting her magick ghost over and seep into the current patient, which made him grimace for a moment as he shivered before he sighed in relief.

Reassured that he wouldn’t wind up sick upon their arrival at home, Nikki still held him against his side, the small bags he’d gotten Rikki to bring them on his shoulders. Another nod to Sirena made her smile as she nodded a second Time, her magick Manifesting around all three of them as they simply disappeared before the surgeons’ eyes. They were both a bit startled by that, even more so when the room’s phone rang moments later and they heard the older bassist’s voice on the other End of the line. He was letting them know that they’d arrived home in Rosalia safely, and that the Elvin woman’s husband was leading their patient out back a good distance from the house.

After letting them know they were safe and sound, he headed outside to where his husband was being made to wait. He didn’t even indulge in this much, himself due to his Past with drugs and booze, but there were a few Times that he was forced to just so he could stretch. This particular vice–if it could be called that–would help both of them sleep, his poor husband in particular since he’d never dealt with the pain of spinal surgery before.

Getting settled in the other patio chair, the older bassist wasn’t surprised by the curiously confused look on his face, nor the whimper that drifted up from his throat. Clearly, Bobby hadn’t been told what they were about to do, but that was all right–he’d gladly explain it to him and leave the ultimate choice up to him. He wasn’t one to force his Will on another anymore–not unless one counted the War he’d recently won to gain access to the Coast, anywhore. Should his husband choose not to partake, he wouldn’t try to make him, even though he’d hate seeing him in more pain than he needed to be in.

“Why the hell’d Rikki bring me out here?” said younger bassist asked.

“’Cuz we’re not gonna smoke weed of any kind in the house,” Nikki laughed.

“Wait, _what!?”_ he squawked, shock coloring his features.

“’Tis Elvin weed, kit,” Rikki chuckled. “Home grown, cured, and kept by myself so even Nikki won’t get himself in trouble with it.

The older bassist couldn’t help laughing at the look on his face again. “Trust me, this shit’s awesome when ya don’t go overboard with it.”

“You’re not pulling my leg, are ya?” Bobby asked, now starting to sound skeptical.

“Ya know I’d a serious tolerance for weed when we first met,” he told him. “And while it took an entire bowl to get me high, three hits of this stuff’ll damn near put me on my ass.”

The younger bassist gaped in shock, having seen for himself what it’d take to put his husband on his ass in the mid-to-late-eighties.

“Elvin weed’s a good six Times as potent,” their friend explained. “Therefore, it doesn’t take as much to get stoned on.”

“It also lasts a shit-ton longer, which’s what I need on the worst Days my back acts up,” Nikki said.

Enlightenment Dawned in his husband’s eyes as they widened. “So _that’s_ why there’s some Days when ya eat like a Horse more than ya normally do.”

“Yeah, ’cuz even Elvin weed’ll give ya the munchies,” the older bassist laughed.

“I don’t care if it makes me eat like I’m pregnant and then some– _gimme!”_ Bobby demanded. “I’m even cool with choking on the first couple hits, if it works like that so I can actually sleep!”

Rikki couldn’t help a cackle as he conjured up two of the joints he kept pre-made for when his surrogate son needed them. Letting each one grab one of the lil bundles, he simply used his magick to levitate over the lil Waterfall that fed into their Lagoon of a pool. He didn’t necessarily need a chair, if he didn’t want one, but he wasn’t gonna leave them so they’d both get back in the house safely.

Being a Fire Witch certainly had its perks, as Nikki proved when he simply snapped his fingers in lieu of trying to find a lighter. The Flame that suddenly sprang up and danced almost merrily was about as big as one produced by a Zippo, and it worked just as well for lighting the joint he’d grabbed. Once his was lit, he simply held his hand out to his husband, grinning as he held in that first drag for a few moments before starting to let it out. Part of him couldn’t wait to see his husband high since–although he’d told him stories–he’d never actually seen him at least smoke weed.

The younger bassist was careful about leaning forward slightly, not wanting to accidentally hurt himself worse by moving wrong. He mimicked his husband’s motions as he lit the joint, barely managing not to cough his brains out as he took his first real hit and held it in. Unfortunately, he actually _did_ start coughing as he let it back out, said husband reaching over to rub his back instead of trying to clap him on it like he normally would as he took his second hit.

Just like he’d said, Nikki cut himself off after taking only three hits off his joint, which he stubbed out in an ash tray he Conjured up. He was already high as a kite, just like if he’d mainlined a couple CCs of smack instead, just without the hurling and passing out that came with the latter. Watching his husband take his three hits made the giggles he was already starting to suffer from turn into outright hysterical laughter pretty quick, though. Clearly, the younger bassist wasn’t anywhere near familiar with this kinda feeling, and just those three hits were prolly hitting him even harder. If the way his pupils dilated were anything to go by, he’d be sleeping damn good pretty soon once they got him back inside.

_“Oooh,_ there’s Birdies,” he said, his tone sounding like that of an Awed child.

“Yepper, he’s definitely stoned,” the older bassist cackled, flopping back against the patio chair he sat in.

“Yea, no shit, kitten,” Rikki chuckled, clearly amused as he watched both of them.

“Gotta catch ’em,” the younger bassist muttered, his words a bit slurred. Luckily, he didn’t move so fast that he wound up hurting himself when he reached out to swipe at one of the nonexistent Birds flying around his head.

“Fuck, I’ma have too much fun with this,” Nikki said to the Elvin man. “I might have to get him high more often, if he’s gonna act like this.”

“I’m…high?” his husband asked, turning his attention to him.

“As a kite, sweetheart,” he chuckled, grinning at him.

“Feels like I’m floatin’ and can’t get up again,” Bobby said, practically giggling like their kids did as he referenced the kinky shit they were known for getting into.

“Somehow, I get the feeling that’s truer than ya realize, kit,” the Elvin man laughed. “You’d prolly bust your ass and eat concrete, if ya tried to get up right now.”

“Is it bad that I can’t feel shit?” he asked, looking down at his bare feet.

“Damn, maybe those three hits were a lil too much for him,” Nikki said, now starting to worry about him.

_“Nuuuu,_ not like that,” the younger bassist told them. “Can still feel mahself, just not pain.”

Both watched as he slammed the heel of one foot into the other, which’d normally make him yelp, but didn’t garner so much as a wince this Time.

“As long as ya don’t do anything stupid that’ll fuck up your neck, that’s the effect we were looking for, kit,” Rikki chuckled.

_“Ahhhh,_ ’kay,” Bobby giggled, content to just lean back in his patio chair.

His husband and the Elvin man were just as content to let him stay there for a bit, not wanting to move him more than he needed to right now. Course, that Intent didn’t last very long when both bassists’ stomachs let out loud growls, which made the younger of the pair burst into laughter before declaring that he was starving. Knowing how he could get once he made that declaration, they moved to help him up from his seat, both already knowing he was bound to be a bit weak-kneed since he wasn’t used to getting high like this.

Nikki let his surrogate father take the brunt of his husband’s weight, which he normally wouldn’t have done since he didn’t mind being his caregiver. At the moment, however, it wasn’t exactly a smart idea since even he’d need some Time to readjust to the sensation of being high. He didn’t want either of them to lose their balance and fall so his poor lil Fertile wouldn’t get hurt even worse.

Back in the house, Bobby was settled on the couch in the Circular, sunken living room to just chill out and relax for a bit. His mate was quick to join him after a quick trip to the master suite to kick off his boots and put them up so nobody tripped over them. Considering how abnormally quiet it was in the house, he suspected somebody’d taken the kits elsewhere, just in case he wanted to nap. Likely Sirena’d taken them out to their huge garden, orchard, and vineyard to do some harvesting, Maci tied against her breast in a makeshift sling made of a couple receiving blankets. Given how tired he was from the last few Days in the hospital, he was certainly thankful, if she’d done such a thing.

It wasn’t long before Rikki was serving both of them a small, light meal, already knowing the older bassist could conjure up any snacks later on. Well, that was if his high didn’t simply wear off enough for him to walk without falling and he just headed to the kitchen on his own. No doubt these highs’d last for several hours, if not a Day or two, as potent as Elvin weed was in comparison to its Earthling cousin. The part that mattered was that it helped both of them so they’d be able to function without pain, but not get addicted to anything.

Two Days later, the pair of bassists finally came completely down from the highs they’d gotten off that Elvin weed right after Bobby’s discharge. Needless to say, while he was starting to feel a bit of his pain coming back from still being in the process of Healing, he wasn’t hurting nearly as bad as immediately after surgery and especially before it. Granted, he wasn’t too sure he wanted to try such a method of pain relief again, but at least the shot in the Dark he’d taken’d worked. However, he was also thinking that while he might not do this all the Time, maybe he _would_ do it when the pain was at its worst.

Nikki hummed softly as he woke up after sleeping the Night away, neither of them having moved a muscle other than to breathe after they went to bed following dinner. He hadn’t slept like he’d slept the past couple Nights in a long Time, if only from dealing with his father’s Death, his subsequent Coronation, and almost immediately going to War afterward.

Yawning as he pushed himself upright so he was sitting, the younger bassist ran his fingers through the hair he’d finally started growing back out a bit. He’d lopped it all off and even gone so far as to shave his head completely bald back around ’94, ’cuz he’d gotten sick of kits pulling on it. Now, his hair was just long enough to spike up with hair gel, but he never really seemed to grow it out much further than that. In addition, he’d also started spelling it so it looked like he bleached it, apparently sick of being the only brunette in his band. That was the one thing that his husband hated–he loved his Dark hair since it made him the unique one outta Poison, in terms of appearance.

Once he’d also pushed himself into a sitting position, said older bassist leaned over to give him a _good-Morn_ kiss before asking how he felt. Bobby couldn’t help a chuckle as he told him that he still felt a lil loopy, but it wasn’t quite as bad as it’d been the past couple Days. He assured him that being so loopy was perfectly normal, even with Elvin weed, kinda like it was with drinking or using really just about any other kinda drugs.

“The important thing’s thatcha were able to get some real sleep,” Nikki told him.

“Yeah, ’cuz being able to actually sleep’ll help my body Heal from this surgery,” the younger bassist agreed with a slight nod.

“And like I do for myself, we’ll keep your use of it to a minimum,” he assured him. “Rikki won’t even dish it out to me till I do something like mucking the stalls and too much gardening on top of waking up with an already-sore back and neck, just so I won’t tempt myself.”

“Hey, I can live with that,” Bobby chuckled. “Didn’t really like all the floating since I didn’t get to have any fun first, and damn well not the munchies.”

“Ya were cute, wanting to munch on everything in sight,” the older bassist laughed. “It reminded me of when you’re pregnant and how ya munch on everything ya can get your hands on then.”

“Oh, shut up, ya asshat!” he laughed.

“Hey, I’m just teasing ya, sweetheart,” Nikki said with a laugh of his own. “Ya know I encourage ya to eat when you’re pregnant and hungry ’cuz I’d rather ya get as big as the house than us have an unhealthy, underweight kit.”

“I know, I know,” the younger bassist sighed, a slight smile on his face. “I just don’t wanna gain _too_ much weight since it’ll be a bitch to work off later.”

“Trust me, I know the feeling,” he told him. “It wasn’t an easy mindset to get around when I first quit smack and coke, and really started packing on the pounds again.”

“At least now it’s more muscle than fat,” Bobby said with an appreciative grin.

The older bassist couldn’t help a laugh as he leaned over to kiss him again before finally throwing the covers off his legs. He knew that if he didn’t get up soon, he was gonna wind up getting both of them in trouble from being unable to resist a romp. While he hadn’t been gone as long as originally planned, he’d still missed his mate while he was on tour, and he was a needy Cat.

Nikki helped him up to make sure his lingering high didn’t knock him on his ass, the younger bassist shooting him an appreciative smile. Sure that he wasn’t gonna wind up hurting himself, he left him to take care of his Morn business while he was grabbing him some clean clothes. In not having to worry about keeping a Healing incision dry, he was sure the poor thing’d want a shower after not feeling up to taking one for the last week. Besides, he was starting to stink a bit from the BO that was building up, and there was only so much of that his poor kitty nose could take.

He wasn’t disappointed in Bobby’s desire to grab a shower before they headed to the kitchen, just like he’d suspected. He also wasn’t disappointed in getting a pleading pout from him, even though he knew joining the younger bassist’d tax his Self-Control. Even still, he chose to give in to that Silent plea, if only to make sure he didn’t slip and fall while he was in the shower, despite the built-in bench. There’d be plenty of Time for the adult shenanigans after he’d fully Healed, and both of them knew that.


	16. Fifteen

_September, 2006_

_Bolzano, Rosalia_

Another five Years, two more kits, and several tours later, the pair of bassists seemed to be more than well-adjusted to their new Lifestyle. Nikki was particularly grateful for the few Years Mötley’d taken off between ’01 and ’04, which’d happened after their _New Tattoo_ tour. It’d given him Time to really establish himself as King of Rosalia, not to mention bring the Italians he’d been forced to conquer in his short War with Italy under Control. They hadn’t been too happy about being overtaken by his small Kingdom at first, but after about eighteen months, they’d quickly realized they were actually better off under his rule.

Despite that slightly rocky start, those Italians-turned-Rosalians readily admitted now that–like his late father and grandfather–he was one of the fairest and most just rulers to’ve ever existed. His Laws were fairly lenient for a former Marine and could easily be twisted any number of ways, but there was one main reason that never happened. This new King didn’t put up with any bullshit, even to the point of bringing back public hangings for the absolute worst offenses.

The older bassist didn’t like having to resort to Death sentences or other capital punishments, as was typical of even most Gray Witches. However, he made it clear there were some things he wasn’t willing to tolerate, and that the consequences for committing such atrocities were to be quite severe to anyone found guilty of such offenses.

He also cracked down _hard_ on any and all kindsa drug trafficking and the use of even prescription opioids within his boundaries. For too long, he’d seen such things get far too outta Control in America, and they were only getting even worse now. Nobody seemed willing to do anything about it, though, ’cuz of course the gov’ment liked the money that always did the talking. In his small Kingdom, no amount of money could get him to listen to _anyone_ when it came to trying to legalize certain shit that he already knew had no business being legalized. While he wasn’t quite the strict on everything, what he _was_ strict on had a damn good reason for being that way behind it, a lotta those things being based on his own personal experience with the topic in question.

At the moment, Nikki was still at home on the North, Northeastern outskirts of his Kingdom’s Capital City. His mate’d just Returned from his most recent tour, the _Twenty Years of Rock World Tour,_ the Day previous, and he wanted to see him. Even though Mötley was supposed to be hitting the road for the _Route of all Evil_ tour with Aerosmith–whom he still loved and highly respected–he just couldn’t bring himself to leave in a mere two Days. Luckily, Rikki was more than willing to help him out by Glamouring himself so he could fill in for him and give him a bit more Time at home.

_“Mmm,”_ Bobby hummed before sighing happily. He was snuggled against his husband’s right side, his head on his shoulder, as they snuggled after a lengthy romp.

_“Mmm_ is right, sweetheart,” the older bassist chuckled softly.

“I’m just not looking forward to ya having to leave,” he told him as he squirmed to look up at him. “I just got back from my own tour, after all.”

“Trust me, that’s the only thing that’s making _me_ not look forward to this tour as much now,” Nikki agreed.

“And we both love when we get to hit the road,” the younger bassist murmured.

“Hey, at least Rikki’s willing to fill in for me for the first month so we get a lil more Time together,” he chuckled. “’Cuz admit it, even a month’s better than just three Days.”

“Yeah, I can’t say you’re wrong there and be telling the Truth,” Bobby laughed.

“Still doesn’t mean it’ll be easy to leave, though,” the older bassist said, rolling over so he was gently pinning him down.

_“Mmm,_ if it gets me more of this…” he chuckled, gladly spreading his legs a bit more to accommodate his husband.

“Course you’re gonna get as much of _this_ as we can both stand,” Nikki laughed, growling as he ground down against him.

That next month passed all too quick for both of them, and before they knew it, the older bassist was leaving to catch up with his tour in Tinley Park, Illinois. Bobby was more than a bit sad to see his husband go, just like he’d always been when he left to start a tour after they’d realized they were mated almost twenty Years ago. However, there was something that made his leaving a bit harder than normal, even though it was ultimately considered a good thing.

Only two Days after he’d gotten home, his husband had sensed something that’d made him call in both the Elves that’d helped raise him. Upon a quick magickal exam, they confirmed that Nikki’d felt him conceive yet another kit, which’d make their seventh together. All in all, this’d be the ninth kitten he’d fathered–that he knew of–when one counted Lee and Gunner since they were just as much his.

By the Time he was forced to leave for the tour, the Morn sickness was starting to hit the younger bassist as hard as it always did. Part of him hated the fact that his mate wasn’t here to help take care of him, but at the same Time, Bobby was a grown Fox. If he couldn’t take care of himself–even while he was pregnant–instead of relying on his husband entirely, then he shouldn’t be having another kit. Not when he already had six older ones that relied on him, although his stepson helped out a lot, despite having young twins of his own now.

_“Ugggghhhh,”_ he groaned, resting his cheek on the toilet seat once he was able to stop heaving.

“Mama?”

Barely able to lift his head for a moment, Bobby managed to look up and saw his youngest in his bathroom doorway.

“Whas wrong?” she asked, taking a couple tentative steps toward him.

“Mama’ll be all right, sweetpea,” the younger bassist said, managing a small smile. “Just an upset tummy that woke me up this Morn.”

“Oh, _nuuuus,”_ Maci whimpered with a pout. “Dat’s _nuuuu_ good!”

“Well, actually, it kinda _is,”_ he told her with a weak chuckle.

“How waking up with an upset tummy good?” the lil girl asked, looking confused.

“Let Mama get up from here and brush my teeth, and I’ll tell everyone at once,” Bobby promised, reaching up to flush.

“Chu needs wet rag, too!” she giggled, darting out to the cabinet right below the sink.

Letting out another weak chuckle, the younger bassist managed to use the toilet to help push himself back up once he’d closed the lid. He was a bit shaky, despite having sat in the floor for a few minutes after he’d stopped heaving, but that was pretty normal. After all, his shakiness was as bad as Nikki’s right before said husband would pass out when his sugar dropped too much, ’cuz he almost always projectile vomited when he started retching.

Waiting for him by the sink, Maci was stretched slightly up on her tiptoes as she wrung out the rag in her hands so she wouldn’t make a mess. Looking up and into the mirror that completely Dominated the wall over said sink, as well as the slightly lower makeup vanity that extended the counter, he winced when he saw what she meant.

Bobby gladly took the rag from her and cleaned up his face, grimacing as he wiped off the vomit around his mouth and where his nose was running. He’d prolly have to flush his sinuses before he headed out to the main part of the house, ’cuz they were burning from part of the remnants of his dinner shooting out his nose. Considering that they felt like he’d snorted Salt or something, he was really thinking that’d be a good idea on his part. Finding an old aspirator they’d used on at least one of the kits that he’d bleached before putting it into storage’d make that easier for him, given that he didn’t have a nettie pot on hand.

The lil girl watched her mama as he filled up the aspirator with warm Water, her eyes wide as he squeezed its bulb. She couldn’t help jumping when he groaned from the freshwater till burning a bit as it shot out the other side of his nose, but she quickly giggled at seeing the mess he made of himself again. Rolling his eyes, he repeated the process on the other side of his nose before flushing both out twice more and wiping his face off again.

“All right, let’s go find chu sibbings,” he said, ruffling her hair before gently herding her outta the master bathroom.

“Me go find since chu _nuuuu_ feels good!” Maci told him, running off ahead of him with a giggle.

“I swear, she’s too good a child sometimes,” the younger bassist sighed, smiling as he turned off the lamp on his nightstand before heading out to the kitchen.

“Ya all right, Mom? Maci said ya weren’t feeling good before she went tearing up the stairs.”

Smiling as he looked up from his feet to see Zach–who was pushing sixteen and damn near as tall as he was now–Bobby nodded. “I’ll be all right. And don’t ask me anything else–I’ll tell once the others’re down here, too.”

He wasn’t surprised by his oldest’s eyes widening almost as soon as he got his mouth shut. “Wait, you’re– _again?”_

“Yeah, _again,”_ the younger bassist chuckled, nodding. “Now shut up till the others get down here, or I’ll just sic Dad on ya when he comes home for _Samhain.”_

Zach snapped his mouth shut, knowing that if he did that, his dad was gonna give him what felt like the most brutal punishment he’d ever had.

Only moments later, his other five kits came tearing down the stairs that wrapped around the Circular, sunken living room to the balcony upstairs. Gunner held his youngest sister on his hip, Storm mimicking him with their youngest brother on hers so they wouldn’t fall. They were only a mere two Years old now, so they weren’t always the steadiest beings when they got to going too fast.

Bobby refused to say another word about why he’d woken up sick till all six of his kits were settled in the den that was attached to the kitchen open-concept style. Instead, he chose to busy himself with finding Ginger ale, not to mention a light snack to help with settling his stomach. Just like every Time he’d ever found out he was pregnant, he wanted to avoid having to get Sirena to spell him just so he could eat, if he could help it. Should such a spell be necessary to avoid having to call Stonie in or wind up malnourished, he’d gladly take it, but not till he was on the verge of that point.

With the kids settled and watching him with rapt attention, he finished up his small snack, hoping it’d stay down. He joined them by settling at the End of the chaise lounge that made up one End of their sizable couch, Maci almost immediately getting up to plop down between his legs. Letting out their jealous streaks, the twins–Shellina and Triton–were just as quick to snuggle against his side so they were practically eating his armpit hair.

“What’s going on, Mama?” Storm asked. “Maci told us ya weren’t feeling good, but had something to tell us.”

“Well, she’s kinda right about me not feeling good,” the younger bassist admitted. “But it’s nothing that serious and won’t be unless I let it get that way.”

Gunner was just as quick to catch on as the brother who might as well’ve been his twin. “Wait, seriously?”

Unable to help a grin, he just nodded as he managed to lean forward and grab his glass off the coffee table for a quick sip.

“Whas Mama talkin’ ’bout, Bubba Gunner?” Maci asked as the rest of her older siblings’ jaws dropped in shock.

“The easiest way to put it–he and Daddy love each other a lil too much, and now we’re gonna have another sibbing,” his oldest chuckled, kneeling down to ruffle her hair.

_“Another sibbing!?”_ she gasped, gaping up at her brother.

“Yeah, another sibbing, Maci-bear,” Bobby chuckled, almost immediately regretting that as he was forced to take a few deep breaths.

“Uh, ohs,” the lil girl said, jumping up to grab the trash can for him.

“Deep breaths, Mom,” Zach said, gently rubbing his back.

“Trying…son,” he groaned, grateful for his daughter Returning with the kitchen trash can when she did since trying to Calm his stomach again proved unsuccessful.

The younger bassist was grateful when said son grabbed his hair–which he’d finally grown back out to his shoulders on the grounds that his husband do the same–and held it back for him. If there was any part of pregnancy he could say truly sucked beyond the tenderness that settled into his chest and of course labor, he’d say it was the Morn sickness. Almost nothing’d stay down without at least a mild anti-nausea spell, and unfortunately, it hit Nikki much the same way–even from afar.

After another couple minutes, Bobby was finally able to settle down again, and that was when the Elvin woman who always kept watch over him when he was pregnant moved in. Gently laying her hand right between his shoulder blades, she let her magick seep into him as she cast the desperately-needed spell. She smiled when he let out a soft sigh and melted against his son so his head rested on Zach’s shoulder like it woulda been on his husband’s, had the older bassist been home. If not for knowing who he really wanted cuddles from, said boy prolly woulda been a bit snarky, but he just kept quiet.

Naturally, his being so sick made lil Maci worry about him and wanna know _why_ having another kit did that. The rest of her older siblings’d already had it explained to them several Times over the Years, Shellina and Triton being too young to really get it. Even still, he pushed himself a lil more upright as he chose his words so they’d make sense to a five-Year-old close to her sixth birthday.

“Well, when a mama’s having a baby, that baby grows in their belly for a while,” Bobby started off.

“Like when Daddy took those pictures of chu while _I_ was in chu belly?” she asked.

“Like he’s done _every_ Time I’ve had at least a single kit in my belly,” the younger bassist answered with a chuckle.

“So, why da babeh gosta grow in chu belly first?” Maci asked with the Curiosity only a young child could cook up.

“’Cuz ish kinda like the plants we get our food from,” he answered. “We gots nothin’ to eat, if it doesn’t get hunted and grow from plants first.”

_“Ohhhh,”_ the lil girl said, nodding.

“A baby grows in its mama’s belly till it’s big and strong enough to survive _outside_ their belly, kinda like fruits and veggies grow from plants till they’re ripe enough to eat,” Bobby continued.

His next-to-youngest daughter nodded again, looking almost like a bobble-head as she did.

“But the first few months that a baby’s in their mama’s belly, it can make the mama have an upset tummy,” the younger bassist told her.

“The daddy, too, if they’re Nekos, Zorros, or a combination like Mom and Dad,” Zach chuckled.

“But why?” Maci asked. “Dat’s what I _nuuuu_ gets.”

“’Cuz a mama’s body makes special chemicals when they’ve a baby in their belly to make sure the baby gets everything it needs from the mama’s blood,” Bobby explained. “And till the mama gets used to all those chemicals being in their blood, it can make their tummy upset.”

_“Ohhhh,”_ she said again.

“It’s one of the ways I’ve known when I’ve a baby in my belly every Time it’s happened,” he chuckled, rubbing her ears. “There’s a few other ways to tell, like feeling really tired, wanting a lotta certain foods, but _not_ wanting to go anywhere near others–stuff like that.”

“How does a babeh get in its mama’s belly though?” the lil girl asked.

Bobby couldn’t help a laugh as he ruffled her hair and told her that that was why people’d both a mother and a father. He didn’t even bother trying to explain sex and how it worked to her, although judging by the look on Zoe’s face that he caught from the corner of his eye, he’d End up having to explain it to _her_ later. At least Maci seemed satisfied with his response of it being part of that _grown-up Love_ he and her daddy indulged in when they wanted private Time by themselves.

With that anti-nausea spell in place and his stomach fully settled, he soon headed back into the kitchen to start on a bit of an early lunch. The kids all dispersed throughout the house since it was a rainy Day, which meant there wasn’t any sending them outside to play or anything. As he was cooking, though, he couldn’t help the sigh that drifted past his lips, his hand splayed over his lower belly as he Wished his husband was here with him. He knew that Nikki loved experiencing the good, the bad, and the ugly of pregnancy alongside him as much as he loved his inherited and chosen careers.


	17. Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the point at which I highly recommend having a box of tissues next to ya at all Times, if you're gonna keep reading this story. If ya don't wind up crying by the End of each of the next few chapters, then you're just fuckin' cold and heartless, 'cuz even I'm sitting here crying–and I'm the one who came up with this idea for the role play this story's based on _and_ am the one writing these chapters.  
> ~Angel

_June, 2017_

_Bolzano, Rosalia_

More than a decade’d passed since that seventh kit’d been born, and somehow or another, they’d managed to avoid having anymore after the conception and Birth of an eighth. That youngest kit was born in 2010, which was when both bassists’d started Glamouring themselves to look like their were in their fifties or so. Neither’d age till they the age of two hundred and twenty, but since the rest of their bands were human and starting to show their ages, some members more than others, they’d to keep up appearances.

While Bobby went all-out by Glamouring his hair so it was completely, although varying shades of gray and wearing glasses with fake lenses, his husband didn’t. The older bassist’d occasionally wear glasses with equally fake lenses and Glamoured himself to have more wrinkles than he really did, but he still kept his hair pitch-black. Besides, neither really _acted_ any older than they’d acted thirty Years ago, which made it hard enough to keep up appearances as it was.

Nikki was just glad that his husband had gotten off Poison’s most recent tour–their first together in five Years–a few Days ago. He’d been missing him since he’d only gotten him to himself for about three and a-half months upon Returning home from a tour in December. Course, his own most recent tour was with the side project he’d started back around the Time their seventh kit, Lyrica Cadenza, was conceived. Mötley’d signed a _cessation of touring_ contract in 2014 that went into effect on New Year’s Eve of 2015 when they finished out what they were calling their _Farewell Tour_. After that, he’d wanted to take Sixx:A.M. on at least one headlining tour before taking a break from the road again.

During the Time that his mate was gone, he’d gotten sick of seeing all the publicity shots that depicted him as an old man when they both knew neither of them were. Besides, he wouldn’t deny having been pretty needy, despite having turned a hundred and sixty-six just Days after concluding Sixx:A.M.’s tour–he was technically in the heart of his Prime, after all.

“Sweet Goddess, Nikki!”

The younger bassist practically dove to catch his husband when he started to go down upon getting up one Morn, his legs seeming to just buckle under him.

“Damn it,” said husband cursed, grabbing hold of him and his nightstand.

“Another one of your weak-legged Days?” Bobby asked, getting him back up on the bed so he was sitting down.

“I was hoping they’d quit,” he grumbled.

_“They_ –whaddaya mean, _they?”_ the younger bassist asked, sounding both confused and concerned.

“Well, it’s not like it’s been any big Secret that I’ve a few from Time to Time,” Nikki sighed. “Problem is, they’ve been getting more and more frequent.”

“Ya think nearly fifty Years of wear and tear since your spinal injury’s just gotten to be too much for even Stonie’s handiwork?” he asked.

“Maybe,” the older bassist answered. He wasn’t about to tell him about the problems he’d also been having with his right arm, too.

“I’ll give him a call once we can getcha at least in a wheelchair,” Bobby said, shooting him a look when he started to protest. “Don’t even start with me, love. I know ya don’t like it, but I’d rather ya be in a wheelchair than praying and holding vigil over your bedside after I mop the rest of your brains up off the floor.”

“Fine, fine,” he grumbled with an eye-roll. “Guess I can’t really argue that.”

The younger bassist headed off to their giant walk-in closet to get said wheelchair, which was always kept in storage since they never knew when he’d need it. He was just thankful his husband’s back was turned, so to speak, when that aforementioned arm gave a hard jerk outta nowhere that nearly yanked him off the bed from the sudden movement. Luckily, he was able to brace and catch himself, so he was sitting exactly as he’d been left upon his husband’s Return.

It wasn’t till the next Morn that Stonie was able to see him since he’d been getting caught up on some paperwork. The former Marine’d opened up his own practice, so the King wasn’t his only patient, although he was the only one with him on constant retainer. He’d gotten a lil back-logged from the sudden influx of food poisoning cases he’d been dealing with, but once he’d gotten caught up, his full attention was on that top-priority patient.

Nikki’d just barely talked the younger bassist into running a few errands he’d planned on running while he was with his doctor. Part of him was just being his stubbornly-Independent self, but there was another, bigger part of him that was trying to protect his mate. He knew damn good and well there was something more going on than his spinal injury acting up, but he didn’t know exactly what.

After a several hours of running just about every test he could think of, including blood work, his doctor finally came back into his actual office. The older bassist immediately didn’t like the look on his face, which was a mixture of shock, melancholy, and resignation. He wasn’t too sure what was going on, but he knew he wasn’t gonna like what was about to come outta the other man’s mouth–not by a country _or_ Elvin mile. That just made his pulse ratchet up more than a few notches as apprehension set in, and his mouth suddenly went as dry as the Sahara.

“Nikki, I know ya said not to, but I’ve to call Bobby in for this,” he sighed.

“Why?” Nikki demanded. “What’s so bad that you’ve to call him in? I thought it was just that old spinal injury acting up.”

Shaking his head, the former Marine picked up the handset on his desk. “Just trust me when I say he needsta hear this, too, or he’ll never forgive either one of us.”

He couldn’t help his eyes widening when he said that, almost instantly realizing that _whatever_ he was about to be told, it wasn’t good.

Not long after making the call, there was a knock at the door before it opened a crack. “Ya wanted me to join the two of ya, Stonie?” Bobby asked as he peeked in.

“Just c’mon in,” Stonie answered. “You’re gonna wanna be sitting down for this.”

“Um, _oooo…kaaaay,”_ the younger bassist said, dragging out the second word as he closed the door behind him and did as told.

“Well, I’ve a diagnosis for what Nikki’s been going through–you’re just gonna break down and wanna strangle me when I tell ya,” he sighed, that melancholy look Returning to his face.

“Oh, Goddess–how bad is it?” Bobby asked, suddenly looking downright terrified.

“Really bad–as in, you’re gonna be planning a funeral, bad,” the doctor said.

_“What!?”_ both of them squawked, their jaws dropping.

“Have either of ya heard of Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease, or CJD?” Stonie countered.

Neither bassist’d heard of such a disease as far as they knew, so the only response they could give were negative hums and shakes of their heads. Taking a deep breath that he released in a heavy sigh, the doctor took a few moments to gather his Thoughts so he could start explaining it. He knew said explanation was rather lengthy, and that both of them’d no doubt be in tears by the Time they left.

Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease was a very rare disorder that caused the brain to break down as brain cells were completely Destroyed. The damage caused by the disease was irreversible, just like with any other kinda brain damage, and made the brain look like a sponge when viewed through a microscope. Also called _classic_ CJD, it worsened quickly–most people died within a Year of getting it, or maybe more aptly, getting their diagnosis of it. How long exactly depended on the person and how far advanced their case already was at the Time of that diagnosis.

Classic Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease wasn’t the same as _mad Cow disease,_ which only happened in cattle. It also wasn’t linked to _variant_ CJD–a totally different variety of the disease which came from products made from cattle that’d mad Cow disease. Said products were generally things like ground beef, and the explanation of why once he started giving it made total sense, considering the way all types of Creutzfeldt-Jakob worked.

“There’re three types of classic CJD, and each’s a different cause,” Stonie told them.

“Then lay it on us,” the older bassist said, his throat tight with Terror. “And don’t bother trying to be gentle about it–ya know we can’t stand our shit sugar-coated.”

All his husband could do was nod his agreement, knowing he’d scream, if he tried to be verbal right now.

“The first type’s sporadic,” he said. “This is the most common type. It’s caused by harmful proteins in the body called prions.”

Bobby clung to his husband as they listened, holding his hand in a white-knuckled Death grip.

“Prion proteins’re a normal part of your body–but sometimes they can fold the wrong way as they form,” the doctor continued. “This _misfolded_ prion infects the brain and Destroys brain cells. Unfortunately, scientists dunno why this happens.”

“Hence calling it sporadic, since it _just happens,”_ Nikki managed.

“Exactly,” Stonie agreed with a nod. “The second type’s familial–this happens in people who inherit a bad gene from a parent. Thankfully, only ten-to-fifteen percent of CJD cases each Year are familial.”

“Which means it’s not like the kits’ve cases of this,” the younger bassist murmured.

“Highly unlikely, or they’d have no doubt been showing at least the mildest of symptoms all their Lives,” he answered.

“So, what’s the final form?” the older bassist asked, sounding apprehensive.

“Acquired,” Stonie answered. “The rarest form, it happens when someone comes into contact with a medical instrument–like a scalpel, organ–by transplantation, or growth hormone that’s infected with CJD. It makes up less than one percent of classic CJD cases.”

Nikki maintained his grip on his husband’s hand, easily feeling his Emotions since he was normally more of an Empath, anywhore. They both listened as the doctor continued by moving on to the symptoms present with a case of Creuztfeldt-Jakob disease. Said symptoms started and worsened very quickly–like, seemingly overnight quickly, or so it’d seem to the patients and their families.

People with CJD often had signs of dementia, considering the Destruction of brain cells, including confusion, trouble walking, jerky muscle movements or twitching, personality Changes, trouble with memory and judgment, and vision problems–sometimes people with it’d trouble sleeping, or they’d become depressed. In later stages of the disease, they often lost the ability to speak or move, and they may also get pneumonia or other infections, or slip into a coma. No two cases ever presented identically, and many doctors the World over’d never even heard of this particular disease and its symptom set.

Bobby whimpered as he cupped his husband’s cheek, forcing him to look him in the eye as he quietly demanded to know how many of those symptoms he’d noticed in himself. He wanted to know how long he’d been noticing them, too, if only so he could even remotely judge how long he might still have left with him. Even though finding out the answers to those questions was no doubt gonna shatter his heart, he couldn’t go to his own grave without knowing.

The older bassist heaved a sigh before admitting that he’d noticed the onset of every single one about six months ago, sometime around the End of Sixx:A.M.’s tour. He’d chocked the trouble walking and jerky muscle movements up to his previous spinal injury and just sleeping on his right limbs wrong, ’cuz the latter happened most often right after he woke up. The confusion, personality Changes, trouble with memory and judgment, and depression coulda been from the previous brain damage, ’cuz he’d suffered from that for decades already. Nikki readily admitted that the vision problems were new, but he’d attributed them to just getting older since he’d be around the equivalent of thirty-five as a human.

“Well, since he’s obviously been diagnosed, there’s gotta be _some_ kinda treatment,” the younger bassist managed to say past the lump Dominating his throat.

“Unfortunately, no,” Stonie sighed, shaking his head. Back was the resigned look his patient’d noticed when he’d first stepped into the room.

_“What!?”_ he squawked, squeezing the older bassist’s hand. “Stonie, this isn’t the Renaissance–there’s gotta be _something_ ya can do!”

“There’re no treatments for CJD, Bobby,” the doctor said. “Researchers’ve tested several drugs, but none’ve been able to slow or stop the disease.”

Bobby’s jaw dropped in utter shock–he was completely flabbergasted that, as advanced as medical science was, they claimed not to be able to do anything about such a disease.

“Doctors can prescribe pain medicine for the symptoms, and muscle relaxers or anti-seizure drugs can help with stiffness,” he continued. “People with CJD need full-Time care once the disease is in its late stage.”

“OhmiGoddess,” the younger bassist breathed, turning wide, brown eyes on his eerily-Silent husband.

Nikki’s eyes were full of tears as he Returned the look, which was totally outta character for this hardened former Marine and child abuse victim that almost never cried for shit.

“My advice–you and the kits make the most of the Time you’ve left with him, ’cuz the End’s likely to come sooner than we think,” Stonie told them. “Exactly when, I can’t say, even if he’s already been showing symptoms for six months.”

“’Cuz that End could be tomorrow, or it could take another six months,” the older bassist said, sounding choked-up.

Nodding, all his doctor could do was engulf them in a group hug before stepping out to give them some Time to process what they’d just found out. He wasn’t the least bit surprised to hear Bobby let out a heart-wrenching, Soul-shattering sob before he even got the door closed behind him. Said sob was quickly muffled, and he knew he’d been pulled against his husband’s chest, the Neko no doubt crying into his hair as they simply held each other tight.

It took them both a bit to Calm down, both finally wiping their eyes so they could head back out to the younger bassist’s car. Said Zorro refused to let his husband drive, if he was really having that many problems with Controlling his right limbs. Knowing he was gonna lose him sooner than either of them’d ever expected was hard enough–he didn’t wanna die along with him.

Back at the home they’d been living and raising their kits in, the pair of bassists forced themselves to sit down with said kits. Even though neither of them wanted to, they knew they’d to break the news of Nikki’s diagnosis to them, and the sooner they did it, the better. Naturally, the girls all started bawling at the Thought of losing their daddy–they were all _Daddy’s girls,_ after all–but even the boys got choked-up. Hell, even Lee–who was pushing sixty Years old now–couldn’t help the few tears that slid down his face at the Thought of losing his dad, this Time permanently. It was all a shock and like a dumbfounding blow to the head for all of them, so it was no Wonder they were all crying or biting back tears.

The one thing that the older bassist reminded all of them, even Bobby of was something he’d lived his entire Life by. It was a Pagan saying that Rikki and Sirena–who were also listening to the entire explanation–had taught him well before his Grama Nona’d died. That particular saying was _Death ain’t the End_ – _it’s just the End of a chapter,_ and there couldn’t have been truer words than those. He told his family before they tackled him for a group-hug that if there was one thing he wanted them to do after he was dead and gone, it was to keep on writing rather than burn the book, so to speak.


	18. Seventeen

The next month was one of the hardest that the Sixx family’d ever had to face together, what with Nikki’s highly unexpected diagnosis looming over their heads. Knowing it was all gonna come to an End sooner rather than later didn’t help any of them, and it seemed the girls had the worst Time. All of the boys seemed to be the macho men–even their youngest son, Rory, at just six Years old–so they could be their sisters’ rocks. None of them wanted to see the girls crying, but there was almost a River of tears constantly running through the house ’cuz of them.

Bobby prolly had the worst Time aside from the girls, though, and that was for a couple different reasons. First and foremost, it wasn’t just a parent he was watching suffer as they slowly crept up on Death–this man was his mate, and he’d only gotten pushing thirty Years with him. He was supposed to have over a Century with him, even if it was only a hundred and one Years, not a short thirty due to the extended Lifetimes Nekos and Zorros were supposed to live.

Secondly, it was downright heartbreaking to see the older bassist’s mounting frustration as he lost more and more Control of his own body. Those jerky muscle movements were to the point that he was a Danger to almost everybody around him, and not ’cuz he meant to be. He couldn’t Control his arm flying out and making him hit someone, and he couldn’t even walk from his legs giving out on him.

It was only about six weeks after getting the diagnosis that they came to realize just how much Control he’d lost when he and the younger bassist woke up to a soaked bed. Where he’d been able to hold it all Night for well over a Century–even right after getting his prosthetics changed out for new ones–now he couldn’t even make it till Morn without an accident. Having to wear adult diapers that his poor husband had to get up in the middle of the Night to change for him was downright humiliating. In fact, it was to the point that he’d honestly thought about taking his pistol outta his nightstand and painting graffiti with his brains, but one major thing stopped him.

Nikki wasn’t gonna rob his family of what precious lil Time they’d left with him, even if that meant constant humiliation and suffering on his part.

“How’re ya feeling this Morn, love?” his husband asked, gently brushing his hair back.

All he could do was grunt, for he was slowly losing his ability to talk.

“Just use your Thoughts, love,” Bobby told him. “We both know that’s usually easier for ya.”

_I fuckin’ hate this, sweetheart,_ the older bassist thought irritably. _I can’t do anything for myself anymore, and ya know how batshit that drives me_.

“Too well I know it,” he agreed, managing to force a chuckle. “I’ve seen how ornery ya get right after ya get taken off the sedatives from having pneumonia.”

_And it’s not fair to you to have to take care of me like I’ma fuckin’ kitten,_ Nikki continued, tearing up as his Emotions took over.

“Nikki, ya know I don’t care about that,” the younger bassist swore, leaning down to gently kiss him. “Hell, bad as it woulda hurt, I’d have understood if you’d pulled that pistol outta your nightstand and offed yourself when ya still could.”

He knew he was leaving the _’cuz at leastcha wouldn’t be suffering now_ unsaid on purpose.

“So now, I dunno which one’s worse–still having ya with me and having to watch ya suffer like this, or if I’d lostcha even earlier, but knew ya wouldn’t be suffering,” Bobby told him, barely able to get out the last few words as he choked up.

The older bassist managed to use his magick to force his arms to cooperate with his Will, using one hand to pull his husband down for a kiss while the other gently cupped his cheek. Bobby couldn’t help sobbing into the kiss as he gladly let him pull him down, then crawled onto the bed beside him to snuggle against him. He was dreading when that final Day came, when he’d have to see the Light fade from his husband’s eyes and know he was forever gone in a physical sense.

It wasn’t too surprising that Nikki soon started using his magick to force the rest of his body to cooperate with him. Even though he’d lost actual Control over said body and had to use magickal Force, he was still just as needy as he ever was in a physical sense. Taking care to make sure that magick was used to Shield his husband so he wouldn’t be facing a pregnancy without him after he finally died, he made sure he got all the lovin’ he could stand. Sadly, it was also one of the few ways he could still express himself, and that was part of what made their lovemaking so bittersweet these Days. At least he wasn’t leaving this plane without one last hurrah as it was, but every Time might be the last Time.

Bobby woke from a post-sex nap, his head on his dying husband’s shoulder like it almost always was, and the first thing he did was check his pulse. It took him a few moments to find it, and at first, he thought the older bassist’d slipped away from him while they were both asleep and unaware. After those few moments, he heaved a sigh of relief as he found what he’d been searching for just under his jaw, that soft Sound and gentle touch apparently waking his husband.

Nikki let out a soft groan as he cracked open his eyes, his arms still loosely wrapped around the younger bassist as they’d been when they’d fallen asleep after their romp. Part of him hated that his husband was forced to ride him, which neither of them’d ever really liked, simply ’cuz he just couldn’t move anymore.

Knowing he prolly needed another diaper change since he’d just barely remembered to put one on him before they dozed off, said husband gently pushed himself up. He couldn’t help tearing up at how his arms just fell limply next to him, not even a finger so much as twitching as he looked up at him helplessly. The older bassist really _was_ as helpless and dependent as an infant now, although he wouldn’t actually tell him that, and he knew he hated it. As a hard-working Cat raised in the nineteenth Century and a former Marine, he couldn’t stand having to depend on others like this.

_KNOCK KNOCK!_ “Hey, Mom?”

“What is it, son?” Bobby called, recognizing his oldest’s voice on the other side of their bedroom door.

“Ya guys decent in there?” he countered after cracking it slightly. “You’ve a visitor out here.”

“Gimme a couple minutes unless you’re gonna help me,” the younger bassist answered.

“I can give ya a hand,” Zach answered, careful to keep his back turned as he bid their guest to wait in the hall. He was pretty sure of what his parents’d been up to, but that didn’t mean he wanted to see both of them nekkid.

“Pretty sure Dad needs changing by now,” he managed to chuckle. “Ya know that seemsta happen about as often as changing a baby’s diaper these Days.”

“Too well I know it,” their son agreed. “How’re ya feeling, Dad?”

Nikki only grunted and rolled his eyes, but that pretty much said it all.

“I know, I know,” Zach said as his mom stepped into their closet. “Trust me, I’ve to stop myself from coming in here and being an angel of Mercy all the Time, if only for Mom’s sake.”

_Sometimes I think I’d rather that than this,_ the older bassist thought, knowing damn good and well his husband could hear him.

“Hey, if you’d really rather that, you’re still King,” he chuckled. “Nobody can really argue if ya wanna have something written up to keep me outta jail for committing assisted suicide.”

He somehow managed a snort and a chuckle, but the soft Sound was short-lived before his larynx just gave out on him again.

“We’d have to run that one past even your siblings, though,” Bobby reminded him as he came back, a pair of jeans on his lower half now. “And I doubt the girls’d letcha do that, even if they knew it was for the best.”

“Not to mention you’d be even more heartbroken,” their son told him, moving to help get his dad changed. “I mean, let’s face it–none of us wanna lose our dad, but you’re losing more than us, and we know it.”

“That’s the only shitty part of Dad being my mate,” the younger bassist admitted, biting back a sob. “I’m losing him so young, and I’m not necessarily guaranteed another like his Grama Nona was.”

Nodding his agreement, Zach helped him strip off the soiled adult diaper, not really liking this task any more than either of his parents were. He knew the older bassist was just about ready to tell him to just go ahead and shoot him, if only to avoid having to continue suffering this indignity. In addition to that, he knew it was hard on his mom to have to play caretaker like this, knowing he wouldn’t get any better instead of continuing to get worse.

After getting Nikki’s diaper changed and a pair of his PJ britches on him, their oldest son stepped over to their bedroom door and opened it. They were both a bit surprised to see GN’R bassist Duff McKagan and his family come in, but part of them was glad. Other than their own bands, GN’R was one they’d both been pretty good friends with ever since their inceptions, give or take a few Years.

Duff almost immediately grabbed the bassist who was all of three months older than him and pulled him into a tight hug. The Sixx family’d been so closed-mouthed that he’d only gotten word about the oldest bassist’s condition a couple Days ago, and he’d been horrified to find out. But as soon as he’d found out, he’d told his wife–Susan–that she and their daughters could stay at home or come with him, but he was coming to Rosalia. It might be the last Time he ever got to see one of his best friends alive, and even if he was in terrible shape, he was gonna take the chance while he had it.

“How’re ya holding up, Bob?” he asked, his mouth right next to his friend’s ear.

“Duff, I–I–” Bobby started, only to break down into tears. He never let any of the kids–only his husband–see him cry, but he couldn’t stop himself this Time.

“Just let it out, cowboy,” the youngest bassist said, rocking him slightly as he maintained that tight grip on him.

Even Susan, the McKagan girls, and Zach surrounded the two of them in a tight group-hug, the last of the group easily feeling his mom’s Emotions rolling off him right now.

“I c-can’t s-stand to see him l-like th-this,” the Zorro sobbed into his shoulder.

Duff didn’t know what he could possibly say to make any of this better, ’cuz there was obviously no making it go away, so he just hummed softly.

“It h-hurts, knowing wh-what h-he’s going through,” he continued brokenly.

“I hate to even ask what exactly that is, but I wasn’t really given a clear explanation,” the youngest bassist sighed. “Just that he’d a disease that was terminal.”

“Creuztfeldt-Jakob,” Zach told him. “Basically, there’s some kinda protein eating his brain lil by lil, and it’s slowly killing him–like, slower than even poison would.”

“Oh, my God,” the youngest bassist’s wife gasped, covering her gaping mouth with her hand.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” Duff breathed, looking just as shocked as he pulled back just enough to hold his friend at arm’s length.

“We Wish we were,” the youngest man sighed, speaking on even his mom’s behalf. “In just the last six weeks, Dad’s gotten to the point that he can’t even move without using his magick to force it.”

The McKagans looked a bit confused, which led to having to explain–for the first Time since they’d met in the eighties–about Bobby and Nikki being D’Anu and D’Artemis, respectively. Looking over at the bed where the oldest bassist lay propped up on a mound of pillows, they couldn’t help wincing at the Thought of having no Control over their own body. When the youngest bassist gently grabbed his right hand and squeezed it, part of him was actually surprised that he didn’t Return the squeeze. Another part of him was even more surprised to see the stubborn glint in his eyes, then the dim, glittery Light that surrounded him right before that squeeze somehow got Returned, anywhore.

None of them’d wanted to believe that Nikki Sixx was actually dying, but now they’d the proof right before their eyes. They couldn’t deny that they were about to lose one of the best men to’ve ever walked the face of the Earth, and in such a devastating way. As they realized just how painful it’d to be on the man’s husband to watch him suffer like this, they couldn’t help wondering just what he was gonna do after he was gone.

Zach let out a gasp none of them expected, the Chocolate eyes he’d inherited from his mama widening in shock as he stared at said mama. That made the younger of the brunette bassists cock a brow at him as he sniffled and wiped his nose, wondering just what was going on. His kits never reacted like that without a damn good reason, but he certainly wasn’t expecting the explanation that he got.

Knowing damn good and well Bobby wasn’t close enough to catch his dad’s scent since he was still several feet from the bed, he asked what he was smelling. Confused, he sniffed the Air curiously a few Times before a somewhat Dreamy look crossed his face as he hummed and told him that he was smelling honey. Only after getting the youngest bassist’s permission did he step closer to him, trying to make catching his scent quick since he knew it was weird for him. That shocked look was plastered to his face again as he stepped back, his sudden suspicion confirmed by that simple action.

“Mom, ya might wanna sit down,” he said, gesturing to the chaise in their lil reading nook.

“Um, okay,” the younger brunette bassist responded, looking and sounding confused.

“I don’t really think I need to say more than your eyes shifted for ya to get what I mean,” Zach told him.

_“What!?”_ he squawked, his jaw dropping.

“Your eyes shifted so they look like a Fox’s again,” his son told him.

“Oh, my–they _do_ look like some kinda Animal’s, Bobby,” Susan said, her own eyes widening.

“OhmiGoddess, that means…” Bobby trailed off, those Fox-like eyes rolling back in his head as he passed out cold.

“What the–is he okay, Zach?” the youngest bassist asked, having moving to catch him when he started to fall off the chaise.

_It’s definitely not a bad thing_.

Duff was startled to suddenly hear Nikki’s voice in his head, but not with his ears.

_Yeah, I’m in your head, McKagan_ – _bite me, and I’ll shock ya silly,_ the oldest bassist thought with a snicker.

“How the hell’re ya doing that, though?” he asked, sounding more than a bit scared.

_Magick,_ Nikki answered, managing a smirk. _You’re D’Anu, too, ’cuz of your Irish heritage_ – _you’ve just never known it_.

Zach studied the blonde for a moment before his eyes widened once again. “Dad’s right, Duff, but we’ll get into that later.”

“Sounds good, kid, ’cuz–no offense or anything–but your mom’s scaring me, _and_ he’s heavy when he’s dead weight,” the youngest bassist said, grunting softly as he shifted him.

The youngest man helped him get him stretched out on the chaise, taking care to make sure his head and neck were supported. Even though it’d been more than fifteen Years since his surgery to put him back together, there were still some bad Days for him, as far as that went. It was rare to see either of his parents indulge in Rikki’s Elvin weed, but when they did–well, that meant their pain caused them to go over the limits of their pain tolerances.

Looking at his dad, Zach sighed as he moved to help him readjust into a comfier position, knowing his back’d to be killing him by now. As he helped him move, he quietly asked him if he’d rather he explain what was going on for him, if only so it wouldn’t have to be repeated aloud for Duff’s family. The oldest bassist managed a jerky nod, knowing that’d be quicker and easier than not for the entire group.

Just as he took a breath to tell the McKagans to sit down, Bobby groaned and lifted his head slightly as he started coming to. Zach went over to help him sit up, knowing he was no doubt shocked completely speechless, and he wasn’t disappointed to find that his mom couldn’t even form words at the moment. Gesturing for their guests to sit down so nobody else’d need to be picked up off the floor, he made to start explaining what was going on. The one thing he hoped was that Duff wouldn’t react too badly, even if he needed Time to accept it, ’cuz nothing’d piss his dad off more right now.


	19. Eighteen

“Now Duff, before I actually explain any of this, you’ve to promise me one thing,” Zach said, giving the youngest bassist the same kinda look his dad gave him and his siblings when they did something they weren’t supposed to. “You’ve to promise that you’ll hear me out and not _freak out,_ ’cuz if ya do–well, let’s just say I won’t be surprised to see Dad use his magick to strangle ya without even touching ya.”

“I’m not so sure I like that sound of that, but okay,” he agreed, sounding a bit reluctant.

The youngest man went into the simplest explanation of Nekos and Zorros, what they were, and what it meant to be mated as he possibly could. Even the explanation of what a Dom versus a Fertile were included, much to Bobby’s chagrin, as evidenced by the blush that stained his face. None of them were surprised when their guests looked shocked, then agreed that that certainly explained why they looked no older than they had back in the eighties now. It was obvious they’d been wanting to ask about that ever since they walked in, but just hadn’t thought it the right Time for such a question.

“All right, I guess all that makes sense,” Duff said thoughtfully, nodding.

“What I wanna know is why his eyes did that weird thing,” the youngest bassist’s wife told him.

“When a Neko’s eyes shift to look Cat-like–or Fox-like, in the case of Zorros like Mom–it means they’ve found their mate,” he explained.

“Wait, really?” their older daughter, Grace, asked.

“There’s only two reasons either race’s eyes shift like that,” Zach said. “Either ’cuz they’ve found their mate and they’re even mentally aroused, or ’cuz they’re feeling _fight-to-the-Death_ protective over a kit or mate–and I can guarantee Mom’s not feeling the latter right now.”

The younger of the brunette bassists couldn’t help a bashful _mraw_ as he ducked his head to hide his blush.

“But–I thought he was mated to your dad,” the younger McKagan daughter, Mae, said in confusion.

“And he is,” he told them. “They’ve been together for almost thirty Years, ever since they realized they were mated in late-1987.”

“I remember that, actually,” Duff chuckled. “Your dad hadn’t been long got outta the hospital from a nasty case of pneumonia on the _Girls_ tour, if I recall right.”

_In November, ’cuz we’d already joined Forces with GN’R opening for us,_ the oldest bassist thought. He was honestly a bit surprised, considering how bad his memory’d gotten lately.

Zach repeated what he’d said in his Thoughts for Susan and the girls, who couldn’t help but _awww_ at the Thought of such a long-lived Romance.

“So, why’s he showing signs of being mated to _our_ dad, too?” Grace asked curiously.

“See, that’s the thing,” the youngest man said. “Mates aren’t chosen by the Neko or Zorro in question–as Dad’s always said, it’s more of a _written-in-the-Stars_ kinda thing.”

“We know when we’ve found out mates, ’cuz their scents’re like a drug,” Bobby piped up. “They’re downright addictive to us, and they make our eyes shift, if we’re in the right mood.”

“And I know it was Duff’s scent he was catching, ’cuz _Dad_ smells like a mixture of Chocolate and Cinnamon, not honey,” he chuckled.

“Wait, seriously?” the youngest bassist asked, his eyes widening.

“If he’ll letcha close enough without growling, take a whiff for yourself,” Zach told him, gesturing to where his dad lay.

Nikki managed to shrug when he was shot a curiously questioning look, his eyes screaming that he didn’t really care. Their friend cautiously moved closer as if wary that he still might try to attack him for invading his personal Space, but eventually leaned down like he was gonna nuzzle his neck. It took only one breath for him to catch his scent, which was so strong that there was no mistaking the distinct notes of Chocolate and Cinnamon it held.

Surprised, Duff straightened and looked back to the rest of the group as he confirmed the youngest man’s words for his wife and daughters. As he reclaimed his seat, he wasn’t surprised when Zach told them to give him a good sniff in an area that wasn’t private, but didn’t normally have cologne or anything of the like on it, either. It might be harder for them to pick up, ’cuz a human’s nose was never as good as a Neko’s or Zorro’s, but they’d still likely catch that undertone of honey. All three women leaned in close and gave the youngest bassist a curious sniff, and none of them were surprised to confirm his words as they leaned back into their own personal Spaces.

Chuckling softly, the youngest man told them that that confirmed what his mom’d said about what scent he was catching when his eyes shifted. The only other person he’d ever seen his eyes shift with was Nikki, but considering the major difference in their scents, there was only one explanation. Naturally, that led to him having to explain just how special and significant this event was, especially considering the Timing of it. It was some pretty shitty Timing, as far as he was concerned, but it was also a really good thing ’cuz of what it actually meant.

“Having two mates in one’s Lifetime’s like getting struck by Lightning, according to Dad,” Zach told them. “It’s a pretty rare occurrence, even after the first dies.”

_My grama’s the only other Neko or Zorro I’ve ever seen it happen to,_ the oldest bassist thought. _Otherwise, even I’ve never encountered it_ – _and I turned a hundred and sixty-six last Winter_.

“Oh, wow,” Susan breathed once the youngest man’d repeated his Thoughts for them.

“Now, for a Neko or Zorro to have two mates simultaneously, even for a short period of Time,” he continued. “That’s like hitting the lottery, in comparison. Having three or more at once’s like hitting the lottery and surviving getting struck by Lightning _several_ Times.”

“Jesus Christ,” Duff breathed in shock.

“Personally, I think the Timing’s both shitty and great at the same Time,” the youngest man continued.

“Whyddaya say that, Zach?” Mae asked.

“’Cuz being mated–it’s like finding my other half,” Bobby explained, drawing their attention to him. “I haven’t ever felt like this about or been attracted to anyone else since Nikki and I realized we’re mates.”

“Even I can attest to that, girls,” the youngest bassist chuckled. “No matter who flirted with him and how long he had or hadn’t known them, Bobby wouldn’t so much as look at anyone else the way he looks at Nikki.”

That point was proven when the younger of the brunette bassists turned his typical adoring look on his husband with a soft _mraw,_ that look answered by an equally adoring one and a soft _meow_.

“He’s never even looked at his band mates like that, and I know he loves the rest of Poison the same way I love the rest of GN’R–even when I hate them,” he said.

“Wow, that’s some serious Love and Dedication,” Grace breathed.

“Now, the reason the Timing’s both shitty and great, if ya ask me,” Zach said. “Well, think about it–it’s shitty ’cuz Dad’s slowly, but surely slipping away from us.”

“A lil more each and every Day,” his mom said, sounding choked up again as he moved to stretch out next to said husband.

“It’s like the Universe’s ripping the other half of Mom’s heart and Soul away from him one tiny stitch at a Time,” the youngest man continued. “He never lets us kits see–well, other than when I did when ya first got in here–but I hear him crying each and every Night, like it or not.”

None of the McKagans could help a sympathetic wince, Duff especially since he knew his friend almost never cried.

“As much as I don’t wanna, ’cuz c’mon–who wantsta hear their parents when they’re going at it?–I hear him crying during almost every single one of their romps,” Zach sighed. “But I know he’s not crying ’cuz Dad’s hurting him physically–it’s ’cuz he knows that every Time might be their last Time.”

He watched as every single one of their guests teared up like their hearts were utterly breaking for Bobby–and the Truth was, they prolly were.

“But the Timing of finding out he’s a second mate’s a great thing, as long as Duff doesn’t freak out and reject him for one reason,” the youngest man said.

“What reason’s that?” Susan asked curiously.

“’Cuz in having a second mate, he’s someone to be there for him, to love and support him the same way Dad does, when he needs someone like that the most,” he answered.

“It’s not gonna be easy to lose the man I’ve had and been in Love with for nearly thirty Years, but having a second mate’ll definitely help with coping and getting through the Grief,” Bobby admitted.

Zach told them that they all understood, if the youngest bassist needed some Time to wrap his head around all this, especially since he was already happily married. However, that sharp look Returned to his features as he gave him a stern warning, his dad giving the blonde that same sharp look from his position on their bed.

If he were to completely reject the already-grieving Zorro, it’d be like ripping out his beating heart all over again. Even if he weren’t faced with losing his older mate so soon, he’d slowly slip into a depression he might not ever make it back outta, if he’d to face that kinda rejection from the other. There were countless horror stories passed down over the Ages of Nekos and Zorros rejected by their mates essentially pulling a Kurt Cobain at the earliest opportunity. Others’d try to claw their way outta those Emotional holes, but they’d eventually give up fighting and just give in rather than keep suffering.

Duff looked downright horrified at the Thought of Bobby having to go through that on top of losing his current husband, but he wasn’t so sure about this mate thing. He readily admitted that he’d never thought of himself as even bisexual, let alone gay, and certainly not capable of polyamory. Then again, he was the first to admit that he hadn’t really tried anything outside what society considered normal, so he didn’t really know.

That was when he brought up the topic of the younger brunette bassist living so much longer than him, given that they’d gone over that part already. He didn’t think it was fair that he’d live so long, he’d ultimately have to go through losing another mate, even though they were mere months apart in age. All of them–even the McKagan women–heard a soft chuckle in their heads and gasped as they realized it was Nikki’s familiar chuckle. They were surprised he’d managed to get through to even the women this Time, but then again, he was a far more powerful Witch than he let on. Being raised by Elves meant he knew a lotta shit even his husband didn’t know, when it came to the magickal side of their Lives.

_That’s where you’re wrong, Duff,_ he chuckled in his Thoughts.

“Whaddaya mean, Nikki?” the youngest bassist asked, looking and sounding confused.

_When a human’s mated to a Neko or Zorro_ – _hell, even both at once_ – _their Lifespan automatically doubles,_ Nikki explained. _Let’s say ya were originally slated to live for eighty Years_ – _accept Bobby as your mate, and you’ll live to see a hundred and sixty, as long as you’re not murdered, get sick or into an accident, etc_.

“You’re fuckin’ shitting me,” he breathed in shock.

_Not in the slightest_. The oldest bassist managed to shake his head. _I’ve seen what happens when a human already showing signs of aging like you accept their Neko or Zorro mate_ – _it’s actually kinda funny_.

Duff couldn’t help looking confused by that.

_Accepting him as your mate rewinds your biological clock,_ he explained. _You’ll go from looking like you’re in your fifties back to looking like you’re in your twenties in mere seconds_.

“Holy shit,” the youngest bassist gasped, barely remembering what he looked like in his twenties without seeing pictures from back then.

_The funny part’s when the human sees themselves like that for the first Time after it happens,_ Nikki snickered. _Usually something like Bobby’s reaction when Zach told him about his eyes, give or take_.

“Well, shit.” He couldn’t help dragging a hand down his face at the implications of all this.

“What’s gonna happen, though, if Duff _doesn’t_ want anything to do with Bobby like that?” his wife asked, her tone a mixture of Curiosity and concern.

_Exactly what Zach said_ – _he’ll slowly go downhill to the point that even the kits prolly won’t be enough to make him wanna live anymore,_ the oldest bassist answered. _And lemme tell ya, when it comes to our kits_ – _even my oldest son, Lee_ – _he’s like a mama Bear when ya get him started_.

Bobby let out a low growl at the Thought of anyone messing with his kits, his eyes shifting back and forth between human and Fox-like.

“Now _that’s_ feeling _fight-to-the-Death_ protective,” Zach chuckled as he gestured to his mom.

Even Susan couldn’t deny there being a big difference between that and what they’d seen right before he’d passed out earlier. There was a stark difference between the buried Fury and utter Adoration combined with a hint of arousal they saw in his eyes. In fact, those latter Emotions were there when he’d turned that adoring look on Nikki not long ago, and it was clear how much he loved him.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Duff said he’d have to think over and process everything they’d been told before he decided whether to accept or reject the Zorro. Part of him didn’t wanna reject him, if only ’cuz he knew he was already going through a hard Time, but another part of him also didn’t wanna lead him on when he was hurting. Even Zach agreed that leading him on, even if this hadn’t been happening to his dad, was one of the worst things he could do. The fact that his dad was slowly slipping away from them just made toying with Bobby’s heart and Emotions that much worse of an idea.

Said younger brunette bassist couldn’t help a sad sigh at the Thought that his second mate might very well reject him, but he completely understood. He knew it was a lot for anyone to wrap their head around, if they hadn’t grown up having the significance pounded into their heads like they did with their kits. If not for knowing that, he’d have dropped to his knees, begging and pleading for him to stay and _not_ do such a thing to him.

It wasn’t long before the McKagans decided to depart to their nearby hotel, all of them needing to rest and think things over. They knew Nikki needed to rest as much as possible, even though he wasn’t physically active anymore, so he could conserve what lil Energy he still had. He needed to be able to make every moment with his family some of the best possible, ’cuz pictures and their memories were soon to be the only things they’d left of him. They needed those memories to be some of the best, even if they were bittersweet from having to remember him as bedridden and mute, completely entombed in his own body by the Time it was all said and done.

Time continued to pass, and as that Time passed, Nikki’s condition continued to deteriorate a lil more with every passing Day. He eventually got to the point that he needed a feeding tube shoved up his nose to keep him nourished, an IV in his hand to keep him hydrated, and a catheter to make sure he could still piss without Creating a huge mess. Seeing him in such a state didn’t just break his husband’s and kits’ hearts–it flat-out shattered them into easily a trillion pieces.

On the Night before _Samhain,_ he surprised even his doctor by getting out a clear Thought that demanded he get that catheter outta him. Stonie wasn’t too sure he wanted to do it, but he saw a familiar glint in his patient’s eyes that they hadn’t seen in close to a month. It was that look that told him that he’d better do it, or he’d be haunted by one very pissed-off Cat once he was dead and gone.

Bobby was more than a bit surprised when his dying husband managed to use his magick to force his body to cooperate with him. Letting himself be pulled down so their chests pressed together, he gladly Returned the kiss he was given, gasping when he felt said husband pull him into his lap. It was the all-too-familiar twitch he felt against him that finally clued him in, and he couldn’t help but feel like his heart was shattering even more. The older bassist hadn’t wanted sex in nearly a month, and there was only one reason he could possibly want it now. He didn’t wanna accept that reason for what it was, but he knew there was no other explanation and that he needed to.

Not wanting to deny either of them, though, the younger bassist rose from the bed to strip, gladly pulling his PJ britches down just enough to free him. He wasn’t disappointed to see his growing arousal as soon as he did, and he felt his breath catch in his throat as he raked his eyes over him. Forcing his own body to cooperate, he crawled back into Nikki’s lap and started gently grinding on him, unable to help a moan as he leaned down to kiss him again.

* * *

It was after that impromptu romp that Bobby got the worst possible feeling he could get, and he couldn’t help the sob he let out as he screamed for Rikki, Sirena, the kits, and even the McKagans. Rushing to pull his husband’s PJ britches back up and drag on his own, he made sure they were both decent before everybody burst into the room.

As if sensing what was happening, the kits all scrambled onto the bed with their parents, Bobby wedged up under his husband’s right arm. Said arm was wrapped around him with a hand resting on his side, making it look like they were just cuddling like in countless pictures taken of them in this position over the Years. Every single one of the kids–even Lee, Zach, and Gunner–snuggled as close to their dad as they could get, wanting this last moment to be as special as possible for all of them while it was theirs for the taking.

Gently nudging his shoulder, Rikki handed a camera to the youngest bassist and motioned toward the bed. Nodding, said blonde got into position far enough away from its foot to catch everyone in the frame as the Elves knelt down beside it next to their surrogate son. He waited till they all managed to plaster a smile on their faces, Nikki managing the first one he’d given to anyone in over a month, before he hit the shutter to capture the image.

The second the shutter closed and the flash went off, everyone on and next to the bed burst into tears as they watched the oldest bassist. He managed to give every member of his family an absolutely adoring look, swearing in his Thoughts that he’d always love them. Everyone sobbed even louder and harder than they already were as they got the implications, but Bobby’s sobs were the loudest and the hardest as he squeezed his hand tightly. As if those Silent words signaled the End of his tenure on Earth, he took one last breath, let it out in a heavy sigh, and closed his eyes as he leaned back against his mound of pillows and finally slipped away from them at last.


	20. Nineteen

Bobby didn’t just feel like his heart shattered beyond all possible repair as he buried his face in his husband’s unmoving chest and let out a Soul-shattering sob. He felt like someone’d shoved their bare hand right into his own chest, wrapped their fist around it, and ripped it out while it was still beating. Even as he begged the Gods in his Thoughts to not let the lack of that familiar, if slow thumping he usually felt against his palm be true, he was sure if he looked up, his own heart’d be waved under his nose before it was run through a garbage disposal. Once it was run through that evil lil machine, he was sure he’d watch the culprit fish out the remains to stomp on right in front of him.

Every last one of the kits–even fifty-six-Year-old Lee–were sobbing just as hard, the youngest ones begging Daddy to come back to them. They’d known this moment was gonna come sooner than they’d have liked, but they could all agree that it was simply just too soon. Nikki still had too much living to do to really be dead, but there was no denying the fact that he _was_ dead this Time.

Several loud gasps ringing out caught their attention, and the younger bassist slowly lifted his head to find out why. Viciously wiping away the tears he knew wouldn’t stop for a while yet, he’d to blink several Times before he saw the one thing he’d been hoping for lately, but didn’t actually think he’d get. At the foot of the bed where he’d been standing to take that last picture, Duff no longer looked like he was in his fifties–he looked every bit the twenty-three-Year-old snot who’d helped put out _Appetite for Destruction_ back in 1987.

Nobody but Zach and the two mated, brunette bassists’d been aware of the discovery made roughly six weeks ago when the McKagans’d visited. Amazingly enough, even Bobby–who was known for projecting his strongest Emotions hard–had been able to Ward off his mind well enough that even Rikki and Sirena hadn’t figured it out. Pretty much nothing slipped past those two Empaths, but somehow or another, they’d remained just as clueless as the rest of the kits.

“D-Duff?” he asked, pushing himself up with a sniffle that sounded more like a snort.

_“Shhhh,”_ the blonde bassist whispered, moving to settle on the edge of the bed next to him. The only difference about now and when he’d really been twenty-three was the length of his hair.

“Holy shit,” Gunner breathed as he wrapped his mom in a nearly bone-crushing hug.

Looking up at the man’s family, Storm said, “Do ya guys know what this means?”

“We, uh…got an explanation a while back,” his wife answered, nodding.

“Nikki told us he’d look like he was in his twenties again, if he accepted your mama as his mate, but we didn’t think it was really true,” their older daughter said in Awe.

“Wait, how long’ve ya known?” Rikki asked curiously, wiping his own eyes.

“Six weeks, give or take,” Duff chuckled, the slightly-older bassist still held against him as he looked up at the Elvin man.

“And ya managed to hide it that long, kit?” Sirena asked, mouth agape.

“Zach was the only other one who knew,” said Zorro answered, nodding. “And that was only ’cuz he was in the room and watched my eyes shift when I caught a whiff of honey.”

All of the kits crawled or leaned closer, sniffing at the blonde curiously as they sought to let their own noses confirm their mama’s words. Sure enough, they all agreed with Bobby and said older brother about what his scent was, gasping the next Time the former looked up. His eyes were just as Fox-like as when they’d shift with their daddy, but his face was too close to be catching anything but said blonde’s scent at the moment.

Taking a deep breath as he rubbed his back, Duff explained that he hadn’t accepted him as his mate before ’cuz he’d needed Time to process everything. He also hadn’t wanted to take the slightly-older bassist’s attention off his husband when the man’d needed him the most. But seeing the way he broke down when Nikki slipped away from them–it’d made something in him snap and accept him.

Looking up at Susan, it was young Rory who warned her that she’d best not try to keep them apart without sharing, or he’d bite her. He was one of the kits who shifted into a Fox, rather than a kitten, so he didn’t have the ability to claw her–but he could sure pack a bite. Even as young as he was, he understood the concept of sharing well enough, and he got that she was still gonna want Time with her husband as much as their daughters. But being mated went so much further than simply being married, and he didn’t wanna see his mama hurt all over again so soon.

“Hon, I can’t really explain it, but the kiddo’s right,” the blonde chuckled, ruffling his hair at how cute he was at showing a fierce protective bent for his mama.

“Like you’re the North End of one magnet, and I’m the South End of another, right?” Bobby asked, somehow managing a smile.

“Actually, yeah–that’s exactly how I’d put it,” he answered. “But I wouldn’t say my magnet could attract just _any_ magnet.”

“That’s how the mating pull works, man,” Zach laughed. “And since humans don’t tend to feel it as strongly as Nekos and Zorros, just imagine how Mom feels right now.”

Duff looked down at the man he was quite literally stuck with, and he wasn’t surprised to see the same kinda Love and Adoration he’d once showered on Nikki, even through his obvious Grief.

“I can’t help it, and I don’t wanna,” he told him. “I didn’t think I was gonna get a chance like this since Nikki’s the only other one I’ve ever loved, and certainly not mere minutes after his Death.”

“Like I said, something in me just snapped, but in a good way,” the blonde told him. “I’d been thinking about accepting ya after Susan and I did some serious talking, but I didn’t wanna take ya away from him when he needed ya most.”

“Prolly for the best, child,” Rikki told him, gently squeezing his shoulder.

“If there was one thing Nikki ever was, it was pretty much what we’d call stupid-stubborn,” the Elvin woman giggled. “He never would take _no_ for an answer unless he was absolutely forced into it, or he wouldn’t have eventually regained the use of his legs.”

“I’ll explain it later once I’ve Black Cat in the room to keep everybody outta trouble,” Bobby promised with a chuckle. “For now, we’ve certain things to do while the Time’s right before a certain moody Cat starts haunting us for Eternity.”

Everybody in the room coulda sworn they heard the oldest bassist say _You’re damn right about that, sweetheart,_ but thought it mighta just been their Grief playing tricks on them. After all, they hadn’t so much as felt his Energy since he’d slipped away from them, so unless he was here as a Spirit and just Shrouding himself that good, he’d moved on. The thing they’d to remember was that they’d see him again eventually, ’cuz whether he’d crossed over yet or not, he’d await them in Summerland once he made it there.

Three Days later, just the Day after his fifty-fourth birthday, Bobby was gathered with the rest of his family and band outside the Castle. Even though it was a bit of a surprise to some, even former members of Poison–Richie Kotzen and Blues Saraceno–as well as former Mötley member, John Corabi, were also gathered. That was also in addition to the countless other bands they’d befriended over the Years that the oldest bassist was still survived by, various Royals–such as Queen Elizabeth II–and a shit-ton of the media and whatnot.

Nikki’s private funeral the Night of his Death was only open to those there at the house at the Time he’d passed on. Being the strongest of the bunch, his surrogate father’d picked up his corpse as if he’d just been asleep and he was carrying him to bed once Stonie’d disconnected everything hooked up to him. It hadn’t taken his surrogate mother and the kits long to build a massive bonfire with a flat area in the dead Center, knowing what his final Wish was.

Rikki’d laid his surrogate son’s corpse on that flat table-like structure, explaining to the McKagans as everyone took several steps back that he wanted to go out in as close to a Blaze of Glory as he could get. Since he obviously wasn’t gonna die by crashing his fighter jet at upwards of five hundred miles an hour anymore, that meant he wanted to be cremated on a funeral pyre. Upon being reduced to nothing but a pile of ash, he wanted to be buried between his grandparents, who’d been buried on a different property he owned back in the States. They were simple enough Wishes to fulfill, starting with his cremation since all that took was a snap of the Elvin man’s fingers to start.

True to Pagan form, every Witch that was there turned the funeral into equal parts a Time to mourn their loss, but a celebration of Life, as well. Much like with their God–who was also said to die this Night so he could be Reborn at _Yule_ –they were celebrating the oldest bassist’s long Life and the struggles he’d faced during that Time, as well as holding a memorial for him.

As both the King of Rosalia and one of the highest-ranking veterans to’ve survived any War he’d fought in as long as he had, Nikki’s public funeral service was one of the most elaborate ever conceived by mankind. It combined both Full Honors from the USMC, as well as Full Honors from that branch’s Rosalian counterpart. Despite there being no corpse to actually bury, considering his final Wishes, there was still a casket covered by the American flag pulled from the back of a caisson. That empty casket was to be buried next to Franco’s grave, which was beside that of his own father, King Serafino. It was as close to the family plot as the most recent fully-ruling King was ever gonna get, but it was still a tribute to his Ancestors, all the same.

While normally, the casket’d be borne to the grave site by a team of Honor Guards from the USMC, this funeral was done a lil differently. Once the caisson lurched to a halt, the symbolic riderless Horse right behind it, the Honor Guard in charge of today’s ceremony stepped forward. Three from the USMC took their places on one side, three from the RMC taking their places on the other so they faced each other.

Upon receiving their signal, they lifted the empty, flag-covered casket as a full, live military band struck up the _Taps Intermede_. Not a Soul in the gathered crowd had a dry eye as they watched, Bobby and the kits crying the hardest as that casket was carried to the grave. It was then raised high for all to see before being carefully lowered, the Honor Guard taking great care not to let the flag draped over it touch the ground.

A few of those in attendance of this funeral were surprised to see a totally different design than they were expecting on the back side of that flag. Pitch-black and bearing a crimson Rose on a perfectly green stem with a single Light-purple Lily, that design was that of the Rosalian flag. The US Marines took charge of the US flag, their Rosalian counterparts doing the same with theirs, as they prepared to fold both. All of this was done in just as much Silence as carrying the casket to the grave site, and not a Soul dared to be so disrespectful as to so much a cough. Not in regards to a King who’d damn near given his Life to his former country on more than one occasion to ensure its continued safety.

Those two teams of three Marines stood stock still with their respective flags held over the casket as a military chaplain and Rosalia’s High Priest teamed up for what was prolly best termed last rites. Only Nikki’s surviving family and their closest friends took seats in the small amount of chairs set up right behind those US Marines, whose backs remained turned to them.

Only after that final combined _Amen_ and _So mote it be_ were those who were seated asked to stand for the rendering of military Honors. It took a few moments, considering the size of even that small part of the crowd, but once they were on their feet, the rest of the funeral detail was called to attention. They could hear the Sound of planes flying overhead, and just about everybody looked up to see fighter jets from both the US and Rosalian Air Forces performing a flyover in what they called _missing man formation_.

Somewhere further away, another group was called to attention, but Bobby was too focused on not bursting into sobs again as he reached up to wipe his swollen, bloodshot eyes. At that point, he heard a call for a salute, and looking around as he and the rest of the crowd moved their right hands over their hearts revealed all present military members snapping off their own crisp salute. As that salute was held, two seven-member rifle parties were given their orders to fire off a three-volley salute, everyone still standing stock-still. That was when a pair of trumpeters–one from the USMC and one from the RMC–started playing a joint rendition of the more familiar version of the _Taps_ in a _Final Salute_. It was only after that final mournful note rang out that both of those sets of Marines holding their respective flag moved to start folding them.

Both flags were carefully folded as the full military band struck up the _Taps Intermede_ again, the US Marines folding theirs so the Stars were visible on top. Their Rosalian counterparts folded theirs just as meticulously, but so that the Center of that crimson Rose was the part that was visible instead. Once they were done folding, the leader of each small group took the flags, meticulously creasing each fold and tucking each corner to make sure they remained folded forevermore.

Each Marine then turned to his commanding officer, who gave him a crisp salute before being handed those flags. The Marine who’d handed them over then Returned the salutes before stepping back into his previous position next to the empty casket. As they stared into each others’ eyes, both of them remained at attention as those commanding officers moved away from the End of the casket.

It was the US Marine who knelt before Bobby first, considering how much longer Nikki’d served America as compared to the country of his breeding and technically Birth. Said younger bassist couldn’t help the tears that started running down his face again as he gratefully accepted the flag he was handed. Once it was securely in his position, that Marine rose and gave him a crisp salute before his Rosalian counterpart took his turn. Again, the younger brunette bassist gratefully accepted the flag he was handed, his younger mate wrapping an arm around his shoulders as he was saluted again.

From there, each of the highest-ranking officers from both Marine Corps knelt down to shake his hand and offer their words of condolences. He was so choked-up that all he could manage was a thankful nod, Duff having to speak on his behalf, which they understood all too well. This wasn’t the first Time these men’d performed a funeral detail, although they didn’t quite get just how close this man’d been to his husband.

They continued down the first row of chairs, pausing at each of the kits to shake their hands and offer words of condolence. Much like their mama, the girls could only give thankful nods while their brothers–even young Rory–managed to force out a lone _Thanks_ past the lumps in their throats. Only when they were done did both halves of the Honor Guard walk away from the empty casket, each of their leaders holding out a salute as they did. That was when the military chaplain and High Priest both moved to shake the hand of each person sitting in the front row before they, too, walked away with a crisp salute.

At that point, two more rifle parties–these consisting of thirteen members to denote Nikki’s highest achieved rank prior to his Death–marched into position some distance away. The family watched as a set of Cardinals and Doves were released, still able to hear the drumbeat as those rifle parties worked their way into position.

Those seated finally rose from their chairs, Duff helping his grieving mate up to the empty casket to lay his own token of Remembrance and Honor atop it. Bobby couldn’t bite back a soft sob anymore as he laid a smaller version of both the American and Rosalian flags atop that Wooden box, then practically collapsed against the blonde’s chest. As the slightly younger man held him up and gave him just as tight a hug as the Night he’d passed on, those two thirteen-member rifle parties were given their orders to fire off a thirteen-gun salute in Nikki’s everlasting Honor.

Once the grieving widower and his kids felt steady enough, one of the biggest escort platoons in history made up of both US and Rosalian Marines escorted them back to their cars. The blonde got his mate settled in the passenger’s seat before turning to each of them, shaking their hands as he thanked them for their service. Each of the men nodded, completely understanding his speaking on Bobby’s behalf since it was obvious the poor guy didn’t wanna be bothered right now as he grieved.

Duff heaved a sigh as he settled in his driver’s seat, reaching over to gently squeeze his mate’s hand as he sat there beside him. He could feel his pain radiating off him as he looked down at the folded flags resting in his lap, tears dripping down onto both pieces of fabric. Even with him now by his side and not going anywhere, he knew the next few months–even the next Year–was gonna be one of the hardest he’d ever face. But if there was one thing he hoped for, it was that his Love–even split with his existing family–would be enough to get him through it in one piece. He hated seeing the brunette bassist like this, but he knew there was nothing he could do except be there for him as his rock to lean on and his shelter in the Storm.


	21. Twenty

After arriving back at the house they’d lived in for just shy of two decades, the family all headed to their rooms to quickly change clothes. They’d one more part of this funeral to take care of, and they wanted to get it done as quickly as possible in Honor of the fallen bassist. Once they’d changed their clothes into what Nikki normally wore–a pair of ripped jeans, a blank T-shirt, and a plaid button-down left unbuttoned over that T-shirt–they let the others who’d accompanied them use their rooms to change.

Once they’d all changed their clothes, Rikki and Sirena prepared to transfer everyone to the oldest bassist’s final resting place in groups. They started with the rest of the Sixx and McKagan families, the group being big enough that it required the Power of both of them. Arriving on the island that few’d ever known he owned, they left them to settle their stomachs while they Returned for the others.

It took three trips to get the remainder of Mötley, Poison, GN’R, and the other bands who’d been invited to the public funeral. Once everyone was on the island–aptly named _Porta di Sirena,_ which translated to _Mermaid’s Gate,_ long before he’d known of his heritage–Rikki did something that surprised many. Even Axl Rose looked confused, then surprised as the Elvin man beckoned the rest of Poison over, which their grieving band mate didn’t notice. Whispering in their ears, he made sure they were all on board with his plan as Lee moved into position with a pair of post hole diggers. The second he was ready to stab them into the ground for the first Time, Bret struck his first chord alongside Blues.

Bobby’s head shot up as he heard the familiar acoustic riff, which made him smile, even as yet more tears ran down his face. He knew why the Elvin man’d picked _Theatre of the Soul_ to play an instrumental of as they were burying his husband’s ashes. None of them’d dare actually sing the lyrics as Richie and CC shared the lead riff, said Elf covering bass while Rikki pounded out his rhythm, since its content’d nothing to do with a funeral. However, the Music that accompanied those lyrics were the right amount of mournful, considering why both’d been written, to play at a funeral.

“What’re they playing?” Duff murmured just loud enough for him to hear.

_“Theatre of the Soul,”_ he answered just as quietly.

“Don’t think I’ve ever heard that one,” the blonde told him as they watched Lee dig the shallow hole his dad’s urn’d be settled in shortly.

“It’s off _Native Tongue,”_ Bobby said, managing a soft chuckle. “Believe it or not, it was one of Nikki’s favorite Poison tunes when he got _in a mood,_ as we always said.”

“Now I’m kinda curious about lyrics,” he admitted with a chuckle of his own.

“Let’s just say they’re inappropriate for a funeral, but the Music fits well enough, as ya can hear,” the brunette told him. “But I’ll letcha listen to the studio track later.”

Nodding, Duff went back to simply holding him as Zach and Zoe–as the oldest bassist’s second child of their respective gender–moved to lower his urn into the ground. The oddly-composed band continued playing their mournful instrumental as they stepped back, allowing the oldest daughter to step forward. Storm was the first who got to throw a fistful of dirt back into the hole, her mama being the next after her.

Bobby’d given their oldest daughter that Honor since he knew he’d be getting the flags from the public funeral, considering that he was his surviving spouse. It was something special he knew she’d be grateful for, just as Lee was grateful for the Honor of digging the hole in which to bury the urn, Zach and Zoe grateful for their Honor of putting said urn in the hole.

With the urn–and therefore Nikki’s ashes–in its final resting place, each family member having dropped a handful of dirt into it, they stepped back. Giving him a gentle shove, the brunette bassist pushed his younger mate forward to take the shovel that eldest son held out to him. Since he’d been present at the Time of his Death and they’d all taken a small Honor, they felt he deserved one of his own. Considering that he was gonna have to help his mate get through the aftermath of this, he’d his work cut out for him and deserved something special. Sure, he was surprised by that–as were the rest of the bands–but he still nodded as he took the shovel and started to fill in the grave.

As he gave it one last gentle smack to tamp down the overturned dirt, the oddly-composed band behind the group let their last notes ring out. Straightening, Duff watched as they stilled cymbals and muted strings, leaving everyone to bow their heads in a moment of Silence. Rikki soon raised his head and suggested they head up to the cabin that was on the island, pausing when the grieving widower suddenly tilted his face up toward the Sky and sniffed curiously. It took him a moment, but he realized what he’d caught a whiff of as he caught notes of Chocolate and Cinnamon on the Wind.

“Ya sly ol’ Cat,” he chuckled under his breath.

“Huh?” Bret asked, looking confused.

“Just Nikki making a final appearance, if ya will,” the Elvin man told him, which caught everyone’s attention.

Bobby couldn’t help even more tears slipping down his face. “I dunno if you’re where ya can still hear me or not, but I love ya, _mia Musica Strega.”_

_I love ya just as much,_ mio dagli-occhi marroni Volpe, they’d have all sworn they heard drift by on the gentle Breeze that was blowing.

Later that Night, the newly-mated bassists were snuggled up together in the master bedroom of the cabin on _Porta di Sirena_ that’d once been a single room. The only people to’ve ever slept in that bed–when they weren’t joined by kits–were Bobby and Nikki, usually when on a couple’s retreat. He felt a bit odd sharing this bed with his younger mate, but at the same Time, he didn’t feel it was completely disrespectful to his late husband.

Hell, the oldest bassist’d been encouraging him to at least snuggle with Duff right after they’d found out about them being mated, too. He’d even gone so far as to tell him one Time that he didn’t care if he’d fucked him right in front of his face–what mattered to him was that he was happy, and if doing such a thing made him happy, he could deal with it.

Said blonde’d been more than a lil uncertain of joining him in this bed at first, his jaw dropping when he’d told him what his husband had once told him. Bobby couldn’t help a laugh at the look on the blonde’s face, despite the grief he was to suffer for quite a while to come. He didn’t blame him for being so surprised–he’d been pretty surprised, himself–but he made it clear as to why he hadn’t. Not only was he still processing being mated to him, but he doubted he’d wanted voyeurs, even if that voyeur was a dying man who just wanted to see his husband happy.

“Ya know, I can’t say you’re wrong about that and be telling the Truth,” Duff chuckled as he simply held him. “I’ve never really liked having anyone else in the room when I’ve been going at it unless they were my chosen partner.”

“Oh, I totally get that,” he told him. “Unless it’s a scene, I’ve never really liked having voyeurs, either.”

“A scene?” the blonde asked, pushing himself up enough to look at him.

“Never knew Nikki and I were extremely kinky, did ya?” Bobby laughed, fingering the one necklace that’d stay locked around his neck till the Day he died, himself.

“Fuck, no,” he answered, shaking his head. “What on Earth’s that?”

“This…is Nikki’s old collar,” the brunette told him, sighing. “He told me Rikki gave him this when he first got him into BDSM at the age of twenty-four.”

“Holy shit,” Duff breathed, not daring to touch it. “Fuckin’ thing’s Ancient, compared to most necklaces.”

“It’s definitely an antique, for sure,” he agreed. “But it’s so much more than a necklace.”

“How so? ’Cuz I admit, I’m clueless about this shit,” the blonde said.

“A collar’s kinda like a kinky wedding band between play partners,” Bobby explained, still fingering the pure Silver chain around his neck. “It’s a sign of consensual ownership and possession, but also kinda like a security blanket for the sub, if that makes any sense.”

“Kinda, I guess,” he agreed, nodding slightly.

“As a D’Anu, ya can feel his Energy still in this thing, he owned it for so long,” the brunette said, gently pulling his hand against his throat.

The second he touched the handmade links, Duff coulda sworn he felt Nikki’s presence, even though he hadn’t felt that since the Night he died. “Holy shit, man.”

“I never want this thing taken off, especially once he crosses over if he hasn’t already, ’cuz it’s the only way I’ll be able to have part of him with me till I go to join him,” he said. “I mean, yeah–I’ve pieces of him with me in the kits, but it’s not the same as this, where I can feel just _his_ loving Energy.”

“I guess I can understand that,” the blonde agreed. “Even if it makes me kinda jealous, I just wantcha to be happy.”

“Besides, even if Nikki was still alive, it’s not like ya couldn’t gimme one of your own, if we ever took that kinda step,” Bobby told him. “Just like I fully Intend to keep my handfasting necklace and wear it, but that doesn’t mean ya can’t gimme something special along those lines, too.”

Nodding, he simply pulled him against his side and held him, not even wanting to so much as kiss him right now. It wasn’t ’cuz he truly didn’t wanna, but ’cuz he was trying to respect the fact that he might not be ready to take such a step after suffering such a loss. He was more than willing to wait till he was ready, even if it took him months to get there and he’d to rely on his marriage with Susan to be able to get sex.

That being said, Duff was more than a lil surprised when he threaded his fingers in the hair at his nape and pulled him closer. As if sensing his Warring Thoughts and Emotions, the brunette gave him every opportunity possible to pull away, but he never did. Instead, he just held still, wondering what his Intent was till it was made all too clear as their lips pressed together.

Chaste and gentle, the kiss Bobby gave him wasn’t a hungry one like he was desperate to get his rocks off. This was more like the kisses he’d share with his wife after a Night of tender lovemaking, where he could feel every ounce of Love she’d pour into hers. The blonde couldn’t help a hum as he Returned that kiss, his own hand moving to anchor that brown hair he loved at his mate’s nape. Said mate sighed happily, his lips parting only slightly in a Silent offer of entry that he could tell he was more than welcome to refuse. Part of him wanted to, but another part of him wanted to be as close to him as possible during his Time of need without going too far.

Making out with his younger mate felt just as Natural and genuine as making out with Nikki’d ever felt in all the Years they’d been together. Still, he wasn’t surprised when Duff gently Ended it, both of them panting as Chocolate eyes stared into ones the Color of Jadeite with maybe a hint of Chocolate Moonstone. While part of him _did_ wanna take that next step with him, another part of him recognized that it was simply too soon after his husband’s Death. He didn’t want the blonde thinking he was just using him as a rebound, so he was more than happy to simply cuddle as they both drifted off to sleep.


	22. Epilogue

_October, 2018_

_Sherman Oaks, California_

Following the Death of his husband and the Time he spent serving as _King Father_ till Zach was fully trained and had his Coronation, Bobby decided to move back to the States. While he loved Rosalia to pieces and always would, continuing to live in that small Kingdom was simply too painful. His Time with said husband was cut way too short, as far as he was concerned, and his attempt at remaining there proved to be more detrimental than helpful.

The only thing besides the presence of his younger mate that stopped him from offing himself–finding out in mid-March that he was pregnant again. Much like when he and Nikki’d conceived their oldest together, he figured that he’d conceived between Valentine’s Day and the twenty-fifth. Still grieving over his loss, though, he just hadn’t paid any attention to the typical symptoms, or he’d attributed them to a lack of sleep or something. Only when Sirena’d given him a magickal exam did they learn the Truth, and that’d made Duff but his boot down, so to speak. He loved the brunette to the Ends of the Galaxy and beyond, but he wasn’t gonna let him hurt himself, if it meant hurting their child, too.

It was at that point that he decided moving back to California was the better choice for him, even though he’d to uproot the few minor kits he had. They weren’t too keen on moving back to the States after spending the majority, if not all of their kithood in Europe, but they couldn’t really argue. None of them were oblivious to their mama’s suffering, and he also maintained Primary custody of them.

Settled in a house just big enough for himself, Maci, the twins, Lyrica, and Rory, the brunette bassist was just enjoying getting to relax. His band had understood his wanting to cancel their Summer tour for this Year that they’d planned long before his husband’s diagnosis. It was obvious that he’d a hard Time just getting through a normal Day, and they knew he’d never survive a tour just yet. With him turning up pregnant again so soon afterward, they knew he definitely just needed some Time to himself so he wouldn’t completely lose his shit.

“Ya know, I’d forgotten what it was like, seeing Susan pregnant,” Duff chuckled, his hand resting on his swollen belly.

“Hell, I’d almost forgotten what it’s like to _be_ pregnant,” he chuckled, moving to cover his younger mate’s hand with his own. “And look at how many more Times I’ve gone through it than she has.”

“Ain’t that the Truth?” the blonde laughed. “I swear, I’d say ya were Mormon or something, if I didn’t know any better.”

“Nah, more like Nikki and I’d both just get needy and forget to Shield me–or that Shield would slip ’cuz of how needy we were,” Bobby told him with a grin.

“Hey, nothing wrong with that,” he said. “It’s obvious thatcha love your kits–even Lee, and he wasn’t yours–no matter how old they get.”

“And it doesn’t matter how many I have, it seems, either,” the brunette agreed. He grinned as he felt their kit squirm within him, which his younger mate felt, too.

“Looks like somebody’s waking up,” Duff chuckled, gently rubbing the spot.

“Oh, sweet Lady,” he said, mocking a groan. “Cue the constant discomfort and trips to the bathroom, then.”

“As if you’d have it any other way, love.”

Gasping as he jumped, Bobby curled himself around his belly protectively, the blonde looking around suspiciously.

“Chill out, ya nuts–I know damn good and well ya still remember me.”

The brunette’s jaw dropped as something started glittering in the corner of the room, a bright Light blinding them as it flared moments later. Both were forced to shield their eyes with their forearms, cautiously lowering them again when that Light dimmed slightly. It was the sight that met said unshielded eyes that made even Duff’s jaw drop in utter shock as he took in what he saw.

Leaning up against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, legs crossed at the ankle, was a semi-transparent version of the oldest bassist. He looked no older than he’d looked back in the eighties, much like they did, his hair once again reaching down to his nipples like it’d been in the early-nineties. While he once again wore the leather britches he’d given up around the turn of that decade and a leather vest left open to reveal his muscular chest and belly, it was that nipple-length hair that caught his widower’s eye.

Bobby couldn’t help gaping as he pushed himself forward so he was sitting on the edge of the couch, barely able to believe what he was seeing. His late husband had always hated letting his Natural Gold show–he’d said it was a trigger to his kittenhood for him, which was why he’d always kept it Glamoured black. That was much the same reason why he’d kept those gorgeous Sky eyes Glamoured to about the same Color as his younger mate’s. Said eyes weren’t a trigger for him, _per sé,_ but they certainly reminded him of his kittenhood since he’d gotten them from his grama. He’d always wanted something special to keep to himself, and it was what his eye Color really was that he’d chosen as such.

Unable to help himself, the younger brunette bassist pushed himself up off the couch, unable to help waddling slightly due to his pregnancy as he headed over to him. Well, maybe it wasn’t exactly his late husband–more like just a Manifestation of his Spirit, at best–but that was okay. He could still feel that devious, yet loving and protective Energy he’d radiated the entire Time he’d known him. There was no way this was some kinda shape-shifter that was just masquerading as the first man he’d loved.

“N-Nikki,” he breathed, feeling Duff’s presence behind him.

“Yeah, it’s me, sweetheart,” Nikki answered, giving him a tender smile. “My lil brown-eyed Fox.”

He couldn’t help a sob, even as he Returned that smile. “Gods, I can’t even Begin to tell ya how much I’ve missed ya.”

“Ya don’t have to,” the oldest bassist told him. “I’ve been here the whole Time, ever since my physical Death–I’ve just kept myself Shrouded so ya wouldn’t know it.”

“But why?” the lone blonde asked curiously. “I think we both figured you’d have crossed over by now.”

“’Cuz I know how Bobby can get, especially when he’s pregnant.” He shot a pointed look at the growing orb he’d simply pretended not to notice. “I didn’t doubt that you’d be there for him, but I wanted to be damn sure he could handle moving on without being able to contact me.”

“Not that I’ve really tried, even though I’ve thought about it a few Times,” Bobby chuckled, reaching up to wipe his eyes. He let out a surprised gasp, startled when his late husband reached out to do just that for him and he felt how solid he really was.

“Besides, there’s another reason I didn’t try crossing over yet,” Nikki told them.

“Why’s that?” the youngest bassist asked curiously.

“I died on _Samhain,_ man,” he laughed. “By the Time I actually wanted to cross over, the Veils were too thick–I’d to wait for ’em to thin out again.”

“Ya remember me explaining all that to ya when we started your D’Anu training,” their shared mate told him with a chuckle.

“Oh, yeah–that’s right,” Duff laughed, feeling a bit dumb as he cupped the younger brunette bassist’s belly. “Still memorizing all that shit, and we’ve obviously had a lot on our minds.”

“Well, think about what tonight is,” the oldest bassist told them.

“It’s _Samhain_ again, and the first anniversary of your Death.” Bobby couldn’t help choking up slightly at the Thought.

“I’m not saying I _have_ to cross over tonight, but I’ll be stuck here another Year, if I don’t,” he told him, grabbing him for a hug.

“Hey, I don’t wantcha staying just ’cuz of me, love,” the younger brunette said with a sniffle. “Ya deserve to finally rest, considering what a long, battle-fraught Life ya lived in the first place.”

“I know that, but it’s not like I can’t wait a lil longer, till you’re more adjusted to living without me, before I do it,” Nikki pointed out. “Then again, I don’t have to cross over at all till you’re ready to join me.”

“That’s a long Time to wait, love,” he pointed out.

“So? As much as I hate to say it, Duff’ll prolly join me by then, so it’s not like I won’t have company,” the oldest bassist chuckled with a devious grin. “Hell, that’ll be two of us that can drive ya crazy by making shit go _bump_ in the Night.”

Neither of the living bassists could help a hearty laugh, glad to see and hear that he still possessed his twisted sense of humor, even in Death.

“I’ll admit, I miss my grandparents and I wanna be with ’em,” he continued. “But they know how much ya meant to me, and that I’d do anything to see ya happy. They’ve already crossed just long enough to reiterate that what feels like a thousand Times since I died.”

“Really?” the youngest bassist asked, surprised.

Bobby _wasn’t_ surprised when three more Lights lit up their living room, then dimmed to reveal Tom, Nona, and Franco. “Hey, guys–it’s been a while.”

“It certainly has, Bobby,” Tom chuckled, reaching out to hug him. “Long enough that we didn’t know about your second mate, or ya having _another_ lil one on the way.”

“Certainly a reason to be happy for ya, even though we never actually met,” Nona laughed, taking her turn to hug him. “It’s easier to move past the Death of your first mate when you’ve a second to help ya through it.”

“Yeah, that’s part of what’s kept me sane for the last Year,” he admitted. “Otherwise, I’d prolly be with the four of ya, especially if I hadn’t moved back to California instead of staying in Rosalia.”

Franco nodded his understanding as he said that even he’d seen him attempt to stay to Honor his late husband’s memory, but how it’d so negatively affected him. He was glad to see that, even if they weren’t constantly immersed in their heritage, he’d done what was right and brought his kits back to the States so they’d an easier Time of adjusting. Even he was Cat enough to admit that sometimes, one’s heritage needed to take a back seat to some things, and this was one of those things.

Duff couldn’t help his surprise since he’d never actually met any of Nikki’s family, amazed to see how much they embraced the younger brunette bassist as one of their own. It was pretty clear that they’d loved him as if he really was one of their own, not just their son and grandson’s mate and husband, and that brought a smile to his face.

As Bobby moved to hug his late husband again, glad to be able to take Comfort in his presence one last Time before they were separated for what could be Centuries, he couldn’t help but wonder what he’d choose to do. He wanted him to stay, but at the same Time, he deserved to be able to cross over, rest, and enjoy himself as he awaited their eventual reunion. He didn’t deserve to be trapped here as an Earthbound Spirit ’cuz he simply couldn’t let him go, but he wouldn’t deny having missed getting moments like these. Sure, having his younger mate certainly helped, but even that wasn’t quite the same–and he’d eventually lose him, too.

Nikki gently thumbed away the tears that slipped down his cheeks from the eyes he’d fell in Love with from the first Night they met. Leaning down from his still-exceptional height of six-six, he gave him the first kiss they’d shared since the one right after their final lovemaking. It was every bit as sweet and tender as that last kiss, which made the younger brunette bassist sigh and moan into it softly. He couldn’t deny the blonde being a helluva lover and just as gently passionate when he wanted to be, but these were two completely different men, alive or dead.

“I meant what I said about staying for a while longer, if ya really want me to,” he murmured, reaching up to gently rub an ear.

“I–I–” Bobby said, cutting himself off to bite his lip.

“What can I say? I’m not too keen on leaving you, either,” the oldest bassist chuckled. “I’d say this last Year of keeping myself on a leash so I could maintain my Shroud was killing me, but…”

“Kinda hard to kill what’s already dead, physically-speaking,” he said, that frown turning into a slight smile. “I just don’t wantcha feeling like ya _have_ to stay, or winding up Earthbound ’cuz I wind up being unable to let go.”

“Hey, I’ll take even being Earthbound till you’re ready to come with me,” Nikki said. “I told ya, I just wantcha to be happy, _mio dagli-occhi marroni Volpe.”_

“And I _am_ happy,” the younger brunette bassist swore. “Sure, it’s not the same, especially after just a Year compared to nearly thirty, but I’ve Duff to love and help me through the hard Times–like our anniversary.”

“And damned if I’m not gonna love ya and help ya through those hard Times,” said younger mate swore, a determined look on his face.

Knowing that look all too well, he wasn’t surprised when he saw a sudden flash of Anxiety in those Jadeite eyes. “Looks like Duff’s something he wantsta say, sweetheart.”

“Well, more like ask, but yeah–I guess ya could kinda say that,” Duff admitted, flushing slightly and sounding a bit sheepish.

“Duff?” Bobby asked, sounding curiously concerned as he turned to face him.

“I think ya know how much I love ya, both ’cuz of my efforts at proving it and ’cuz ya can feel it,” he said.

“Well, yeah–I wouldn’t be much of an Empath, if I _couldn’t_ feel it,” the younger brunette bassist chuckled.

“Just like I think ya know I’m not gonna divorce Susan just so we can get married, ourselves.”

“That wouldn’t be fair to her, especially after how long you’ve been together.” He was starting to get a bit suspicious as he felt that Anxiety ramp up a bit.

“Well, that being said…” Duff took a deep breath as he reached into his pocket, then started sinking to one knee. “Robert Harley Dall-Sixx, will ya do me the greatest Honor of handfasting with me? And if not, will ya at least take this ring as a physical reminder of my promise of Faith, Patience, and Love for the rest of our Lives?”

Nikki couldn’t help a grin as he watched his sweetheart’s jaw drop and eyes widen as he was shown a black-chrome wedding band that was shaped like a Crown and embedded with his Birthstone, Topaz. It woulda taken a true idiot not to see this coming, even if they hadn’t expected it to be quite so soon after his Death just last Year. But he was happy for them, if only ’cuz that reaffirmed what he’d already known–that the youngest bassist really _was_ taking their being mated seriously, and he was in it for the long haul.

Bobby finally got himself together and nodded, letting his younger mate take his hand and gently slip the ring onto his finger. Due to his pregnancy, he couldn’t get it on his ring finger at the moment, but he simply laughed and made do with his pinky finger. He told him he could always wear it on the chain of his handfasting necklace, too, and it could even be resized after he gave Birth again, if need be.

The group of Spirits in their living room bearing witness to such a happy event couldn’t help letting out a collective cheer. Even though he thought it was a bit strange, Duff couldn’t help chuckling into the kiss that his mate gave him, enjoying feeling his growing baby bump pressing against him. He couldn’t help that smile somehow growing even wider when he looked up from their kiss to see the oldest bassist smiling at him. Despite him giving him a mildly stern warning to keep going on as he’d been for the last Year–all but their private moments of which, he’d been able to see–he couldn’t help the Happiness that made his heart wanna explode in a good way.

Assured that his widower was truly happy and gonna be able to do just fine without him, Nikki gently pulled him into a hug. He made sure not to hug him so tightly that he hurt him or his unborn kit as he also gave him another kiss before letting him go. That was when another Light flared up, this Time not quite as bright, before dimming further to reveal something unexpected. On the wall, there was a Circular opening that depicted a beautiful Meadow that hadn’t been there before, a Waterfall roaring and a Stream babbling somewhere in the background.

Melodic laughter that could only belong to smaller races of Fae and other Elementals joined the Sounds of Birds singing and Breezes blowing. Bobby gasped as he realized they were looking at the _Sidhe_ Tom, Nona, and Franco must reside in in their joint Afterlife. That was when he also realized that this was where his late husband must be going when he joined them in Summerland. A tear once again slipped down his face as he looked up into those gorgeous Sky eyes, but there was a smile on his face. Nikki couldn’t help Returning that smile as he assured him that if that was where he was going, he could live without him just fine, ’cuz he knew he’d join him there eventually. In the meantime, he’d his younger mate–who’d also join them one Day–to keep him sane and happy on this side of the Veil.

With no way to convince himself that the Day they were reunited would come too soon, if he didn’t keep watch over him, the oldest bassist leaned down to give him what’d be their final kiss till that Day came. His words of loving Adoration that came next were in solid Italian, ’cuz no other language on the Planet felt right to him. The younger brunette bassist Returned those words with ones equally loving and adoring, waving to the group as they crossed into their Afterlife.

On the other side so that they were in their Meadow, the group gave Bobby and Duff wide grins as they Returned the waves. Even the blonde couldn’t help a smile as he waved to them, an arm wrapped around his mate as they watched that Portal close. That’d be the last Time anyone saw the notorious Nikki Sixx for quite a while, but they knew they’d see him again someday, and that was what mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Annnnd_ that's a wrap for this particular story, folks. Hopefully no one wantsta kill me _too_ badly, but I get it, if ya do. LOL!
> 
> I've shed just as many tears, maybe more, while writing the last few chapters as I did when my former best friend and I were working our way through the Ending scenes of the role play that Inspired this as much as @SailorLestrade's story _Royals_ did. That being said, I need a bit of a break to get my head on straight again–not to mention some serious sleep–before I even think of trying to write anything else.
> 
> Who knows what'll happen once I get more than 4-8 hours of sleep in a 2-Day period? Even I don't, so the suspense's killing me just as much as I'm sure y'all wanna for the way I Ended this.  
> ~Angel


End file.
